THE    OUT    OF    DOOR 
LIBRARY. 


ON  THE  GALLERY— NEAR   THE  ROTH  HORN  SUMMIT 


THE  OUT  OF  DOOR 
LIBRARY  «*    «*    ■*    «* 


MOUNTAIN 
CLIMBING 


BY 


EDWARD  L  WILSON  MARK  BRICKELL  KERR 

EDWIN  LORD  WEEKS  WILLIAM  WILLIAMS    • 

A.  F.JACCACI  H.  F.  B.  LYNCH 

SIR  W.  MARTIN  CONWAY 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1897 


.HI 


Copyright,  1897,  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


TYPOGRAPHY    BY   C.   J.    PETERS   &   SON. 


PRINTED   BY    BRAUNWORTH,    MUNN   &   BARBER. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 3 


By  EDWARD  L.  WILSON 


II 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering  hy  a  Casual 
Amateur 65 


By  EDWIN  LORD  WEEKS* 


III 


Ascent  of  Mount  Aetna 129 

By  A.  F.  JACCACI. 


IV 

a 

The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 161 

By  H.  F.  B.  LYNCH. 


V 


■55 

By  WILLIAM  WILLIAMS. 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Ettas 225 

LLIAMS. 

263761 


Contents 

VI 

Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 275 

By  MARK  BRICKELL  KERR. 


VII 

One  Thousand  Miles  Through  the  Alps    .    .    .    313 

By  SIR  W.  MARTIN  CONWAY. 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


On  the  Gallery  —  Near  the  Rothhom  Summit 


Frontispiece 


{Mount  Washington  in  Winter  — 

Mount  Washington  in  March 

The  Last  Half  Mile  —  The  Summit  in  View 

A  Snow-storm  Below         .... 

Overlooking  the  Clouds      .... 

Near  the  Tree  Line  ..... 

" Medford"  to  the  Rescue 

Tuckemian's  Ravine  from  Mount  Washington 

The   "  Presidential  Range "    and  "  Gulf  of  Mexico  " 

Mount  Washington  .... 
Frost  Feathers  —  Tip  -  Top  House  . 
Sunset  —  A  Sun-Dog  on  the  Snow-Clouds 
Measuring  the  Wind  .... 
Valley  of  Amtnotioosuc  .... 
Mount  Washington  Signal  Station 
Frost  Feathers  under  the  Railway  Trestle 

Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering  — 

The  Peak  of  the  Zinal-Rothhorn  from  the  Hornli 

Peter  Taugwalder,  No.  2 

Zinal-Rothhorn  —  Sunset 

A  Ladder  of  Ice  —  Zinal-Rothhorn  . 

The  Ascent  of  the  Dom  —  The  Start  at  3  a.m. 

The  Ober-Gabelhorn         .... 

Peter  Taugwalder,  No.  1 

A  Long  Step  —  On  the  Gran  Paradiso    . 

Josef  Marie  Perren  {Guide  at  Zermatt) 

Raphael  Biner  on  the  Last  Ice  Cornice  of  the  Rothhom 

Getting  down  the  Ledge  above  the  Saddle— Rothhom 

Raphael  Biner,  Guide — Zermatt    .... 

A  Rest  on  the  Way  Down        ..... 


Page  3 

7 


from 


9 
■3 
17 
21 

25 

31 

37 
41 
47 
5i 

55 
59 


65 
68 

7i 

75 

79 

83 

S7 

91 

98 

105 

in 

"5 


List  of  I  lustrations 

An  Ascent  of  Mount  /Etna  — 

In  the  Lava  of  1886 Page  129 

Women  of  Nicolosi 131 

On  the  Road  to  Nicolosi 133 

A   View  of  Mount  ALtna  from  the  Greek  Theatre  at   Taor- 

mina 135 

The  Church  of  Trasecca,  with  Lava-Stone  Decoration     .         .137 

Mount  ALtna 139 

Atna  from  the  Harbor  of  Catania 143 

View  from  Monte  Gemellari,  showing  some  of  the  Mouths  of 

the  Eruption  of  1886  . 145 

The  Little  Path  threading  the   Vineyards  on  the  Slopes  of 

Atna 147 

An  Old  Crater 148 

On  the  Brink  of 'the  Great  Crater  of Attn  a  .  .  .  .150 
The  Serra  del  Solfizio,  from  the  Valle  del  Bove  .  .  .153 
Peasants  by  the  Way 1 5  5 

The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat  — 

Mount  Ararat  from  Erwa?i,  Thirty-five  Miles  Distant  .         .161 

The  Party  en  route 165 

The  Dome  of  Ararat   as  seen  above  Sardar-Bulakh,  at  a 

Height  of  about  9,000  feet 169 

The  Summit  viewed  from  a  Height  of  13,000  feet     .         .         .174 

The  Great  Chasm  of  Arguri 177 

Colossal  Blocks  of  Conglomerate  hurled  out  of  the  Chasm  of 

Arguri 181 

Lesser  Ararat  as  it  appeared  just  before  reaching  Sardar- 
Bulakh       191 

Mount  Ararat  as  seen  from  the  Village  of  Aralykh  {the  town 
in  the  foreground).     Taken  at  a  height  of  1,756  feet  above 
sea-level  and  about  seventeen  miles  from  the  mountain       .     197 
Panorama  of  Mount  Ararat,  as  viewed  from  Aralykh    .      202-203 
Kurd  Porters 211 

Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias — 

Landing  through  the  Surf  at  Icy  Bay 225 

The  Alaskan  Coast  from  Mount  Fairweather  to  Mount  St. 

Elias 227 

Cutting  Stefs  up  an  Ice  Slope 231 

x 


L  ist  of  Illustrations 

Mount  St.  Elias  from  the  Northwest  Corner  of  the   Chaix 
Hills,  showing  the  Crater,  the  etitire  tipper  rim  of  which 

was  ascended Page  234-235 

Mount  Crillon  from  the  Pacific  Ocean     .....  239 

Leaving  Yakut  at  for  Icy  Bay  in  Canoes  .....  243 

Camp  at  Icy  Bay  before  the  Start  for  Mount  St.  Elias    .         .  247 
Wading  an  Arm  of  the  Yahtse  River  on  the  return  from  the 

Mountain  .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .251 

Mount  La  Perouse  and  the  Great  Pacific  Glacier,  from  the 

Ocean „  252-253 

A  Rainy  Day  on  the  March  to  the  Mountain          .         .         .  265 

Mount  St.  Elias,  from  Yakut  at 271 

[Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers  — 

The  First  Climb       . 275 

Sketch  Map,  Mount  St.  Elias  and  Vicinity     ....  281 

Head  of  the   Dalton   River  —  Water  flowing  from  an   Icy 

Cavern       ..........  285 

Lucia  Glacier   ..........  289 

View  of  Mount  Cook  and  the  Seward  Glacier  .         .         .         .  294 

Hubbard  Glacier      .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .301 

A  Thousand  Miles  through  the  zAlps  — 

Morning  —  From  a  Summit    .......  313 

Halt  at  the  Top  of  a  Slope —  Gurkhas  and  Swiss  Guide         .  319 

Cloud  Effect  on  Glacier 323 

A  Storm  on  Mount  Viso  —  Forced  to  cling  to  the  Rock  or  be 

blown  Away 327 

Maritime  Alps  at  Dawn           .                  329 

The  Slopes  on  either  Side  are  Steep 331 

Along  the  Snow  Arete      . 334 

A  Snow  Cornice 337 

Getting  down  a  Rock  Crevice   . 340 

In  Wind  and  Snow         . 342 

Getting  down  a  Glacier    .         .         .         .         „         .         .         •  345 
Interior  of  a  Hut  in  the  Tyrol  (Kurninger  Hut)     .         .         .347 

Street  of  a  Mountain  Village 351 

Hannove^s  Hut  at  Ankogel 355 

xi 


MOUNT    WASHINGTON 
IN    WINTER 

By  Edward  L.  Wilson 


Mount  Washington  in  March. 


INE  months  of  the  weather  on 
§|  Mount  Washington  are  held 
in  the  clutch  of  winter.  Near- 
*§  ly  every  day  during  that  pe- 
riod, on  its  summit,  or  within 
sight  of  it,  the  snow  flies.  Its  height  is 
6,286  feet  above  the  sea-level.  As  Mount 
Hermon  stands  related  to  the  Anti-Leb- 
anon range,  so  stands  Mount  Washington 
related  to  our  Appalachian  Mountains ;  it 
is  the  Jebelesh-Sheikh,  —  "the  old  chief," 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 

—  for  it  is  nearly  always  hoary-headed, 
and  its  broad  shoulders  reach  far  above 
and  beyond  those  of  its  neighbors. 

The  tens  of  thousands  of  people  who 
visit  its  summit,  after  the  tree-line  is 
passed,  see  only  a  confusion  of  rocks  on 
the  steep  inclines  —  naked,  hard,  sharp, 
time-worn,  and  weather-beaten  rocks  — 
on  every  side.  If  Nature  ever  tried  to 
vary  the  scene  by  the  power  of  her  crea- 
tive forces,  the  wind  and  storm  have  long 
ago  mercilessly  swept  away  every  bush  and 
blade,  and  torn  loose  every  vestige  of  cling- 
ing moss  and  curling  lichen.  Only  the 
barren  stone  and  the  detritus  of  centuries 
lie  there,  all  as  desolate  as  death.  From 
the  distance  and  from  the  mountain  air 
the  pleasure-giving  comes.  Only  a  few  of 
those  who  have  thus  seen  "the  crown  of 
New  England  "  know  anything  of  its  win- 
ter glories ;  while  fewer  still  have  climbed 
over  the  snow  to  its  summit.  The  day  is 
coming,  though,  when  the  popular  win- 
ter resorts  will  include  Mount  Washington, 
and  the  hotel  on  its  summit  will  be  well 
patronized  by  delighted  climbers.  For  over 
a  dozen  years  a  winter  visit  was  made  less 
hazardous  by  the  establishment  of  a  United 
States  Signal  Service  station  there ;  for  it 
was  some  moral  help  to  the  adventurous 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 

visitor  to  know  that,  should  rough  weather 
overtake  him  while  making  his  explora- 
tions, he  could  find  a  place  of  refuge  and 
a  soldier's  welcome  until  it  was  safe  to 
make  the  descent.  It  would  be  madness 
to  make  the  winter  visit  at  the  present 
time,  however ;  for  the  government  sta- 
tion has  been  abandoned,  and  there  is 
no  place  of  refuge  there.  When  a  better 
state  of  things  prevails  again,  or  when  food 
and  fuel  are  taken  along,  then  it  will  be 
possible  for  others  to  share  the  pleasures 
and  beauties  I  will  try  to  describe  —  pro- 
vided only,  however,  that  a  good  supply 
of  health,  strength,  and  courage,  sound 
lungs,  a  manageable  heart,  an  experienced 
guide,  and  a  cheerful  method  of  taking 
disappointment,  are  also  guaranteed.  The 
weather  and  the  condition  of  the  highway 
vary ;  therefore  cold  and  storm  may  change 
every  plan,  and  close  in  upon  every  pros- 
pect of  pleasure  on  the  summit,  after  all 
the  labor  and  fatigue  of  the  climb  are 
accomplished.  Under  such  hard  circum- 
stances the  philosophical  mountaineer  will 
form  a  plucky  resolve  to  try  for  better  for- 
tune the  next  time  winter  comes  along. 

The  best  time  to  make  the  ascent  is 
during  the  first  week  of  March.  Then  the 
sun  begins  to  play  more  warmly  upon  the 

5 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 

snowy  slopes,  and  the  coolness  of  the  nights 
forms  a  splendid  crust  upon  which  to  climb. 
Moreover,  less  new  snow  is  apt  to  fall  after 
February  turns  its  back.  Of  course  the 
bare  rocks  afford  better  going  than  either 
crust  or  snow ;  but  then,  if  the  rocks  were 
bare,  it  would  not  be  Mount  Washington 
in  winter. 

More  than  twenty-five  years  ago  I  met 
a  friend  who  was  just  learning  to  focus 
a  camera.  I  did  not  know  much  about 
photography  or  mountain-climbing  then  ; 
but  ever  since  we  have  studied  their  pos- 
sibilities together,  and  they  have  drawn 
us  into  many  a  strange  adventure.  This 
weathering  of  so  many  years  has  strength- 
ened a  friendship  which  cannot  be  broken. 
I  could  not  write  what  I  have  planned 
without  associating  the  name  of  this  friend 
—  Benjamin  W.  Kilburn  —  with  it.  To- 
gether we  have  ascended  and  descended 
Mount  Washington  five  times  in  winter. 
The  glories  and  incidents  of  those  bright 
spots  in  our  lives  I  want  to  place  on  record, 
and  illustrate  some  of  them  with  the  work 
of  the  third  individual  of  our  compact,  — 
the  camera. 

The  start  was  made  from  Littleton 
about  seven  p.m.,  March  2,  1870.     The 

6 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 


^&x#2- 


s  s    i 


3^ 


7!fe  Za«f  Half  Mile — The  Summit  in  View. 


night  was  clear  and  cold,  and  the  wind  had 
fallen  to  a  minimum.  Through  the  long 
avenues  of  snow-clad  evergreens  we  sped, 
getting  out  of  the  sleigh  and  trudging 
after  it  when  we  came  to  the  higher  hills, 
in  order  to  make  it  easier  for  our  willing 
horse  and  to  warm  our  feet.  How  the 
frozen  snow  screeched  as  the  sharp  steel 
ran  over  it  and  cut  it  asunder !  I  think  I 
never  saw  so  many  stars.  They  were  un- 
dimmed  by  any  intervening  vapors,  and 
they    sparkled    with    unusual    brightness. 


Mount  Washington  in   Winter 

Their  light,  caught  by  the  freezing  vapor 
which  arose  from   the  body  of  our  little 
horse,  formed  a  nimbus  about  her  head ; 
her  nostrils  seemed  to  send  forth  streams 
of  phosphorescence  as  she  sped  along.     It 
vvas  so  still  too !    The  creaking  and  crack- 
ing of  the  ice,  disturbed  by  the  swelling 
of  the  Ammonoosuc  from  the  melted  snow 
which  had  been  sent  down  from  the  heights 
during  the  day,  and  the  ever-constant  roar 
of  the  distant  cascades,  broke  the  quiet  of 
the  night ;   but  everything  else  was  still. 
The  lights  were  all  out,  even  in  the  camps 
of  the  wood-choppers  by  the  way,  and  we 
seemed  to  have  all  the  world. to  ourselves. 
It  grew  colder  and  colder  as  the  three  hours 
rolled  by,  and  we  found  ourselves  alternat- 
ing with  the  lunch-kettle  and  a  tramp  after 
the  sleigh  to  keep  up  circulation.      It  was 
a  new  experience  to  me,  and  sometimes 
I  wished  it  was  not  quite  so  oppressively 
lonely.    Just  after  we  crossed  the  river  we 
were  startled  by  a  crashing  noise  among 
the   broken    tree   limbs  which   protruded 
from  the  snow.    We  had  surprised  a  noble 
deer  that  was  coming  down  into  the  val- 
ley to  find  water.     As  he  disappeared  into 
the  forest  he  gave  that  shrill,  defiant  snort 
with  which  we  were  so  familiar;  and  we 
felt  that,  having  no  rifle  with  us,  we  had 

8 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 


A  Snow-storm  below 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 

missed  one  of  the  great  opportunities  of 
our  lives. 

To  lessen  the  fatigue  of  the  ascent,  we 
planned  to  halt  at  the  White  Mountain 
House  over  night.  It  was  ten  o'clock 
when  we  reached  there.  We  were  not 
sure  that  even  a  watchman  would  be  in 
the  hotel  at  that  season  of  the  year,  but 
we  took  the  chances.  After  considerable 
pounding  at  the  door,  an  upper  window 
was  opened,  and  a  head  appeared.  It  was 
evidently  a  dazed  head,  for  in  answer  to 
our  application  for  admission  it  said,  "  I 
guess  I  can't  let  you  in,  for  the  fires  are 
all  out  and  I  am  alone."  Upon  being 
assured  that  we  both  knew  how  to  build 
a  fire,  and  that  we  were  not  dangerous 
characters,  the  gigantic  wood-chopper  who 
had  the  place  in  charge  came  down  to  the 
door  in  his  bare  feet  and  admitted  us;  al- 
though, he  averred,  "  it  looked  like  a  fool- 
ish kind  of  bizniss  to  try  to  go  up  that 
maountin.,,  We  thawed  away  his  theo- 
ries, however,  and  sealed  a  contract  with 
him  to  "  kerry  "  us  to  the  base  of  Mount 
Washington  next  morning  on  his  wood- 
sled,  and  to  take  good  care  of  our  horse 
until  we  returned.     Then  we  "  turned  in." 

Bright  and  early  the  logger's  sled  and 
two  strong  horses  awaited  us  at  the  door 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 

next  morning ;  and  long  before  the  sun 
rose,  our  faces  were  turned  toward  our 
far-away  objective  point.  In  less  than  an 
hour  we  came  to  deep  snow,  and  the  horses 
began  to  fret  and  flounder.  At  times  the 
drifts  were  so  deep  that  all  hands  were 
obliged  to  help  shovel  a  way  for  the  horses 
to  pass  through.  Every  mountain  was  shut 
in  when  the  journey  began,  but  when  the 
sun  came  up  the  clouds  grew  uneasy  and 
rolled  about.  At  intervals  they  opened  and 
revealed  the  snowy  tops  of  the  mountains, 
with  the  glorious  blue  over  them.  Then 
they  closed  in  again,  swathed  the  great 
domes,  and  drove  the  light  back.  The 
quick  changes,  with  their  strange  contrasts, 
were  exceedingly  striking,  and  occupied 
our  entire  attention.  With  what  system- 
atic intermittence  creation  and  destruction 
seemed  to  work  !  The  clouds  often  hung 
like  a  tunic  upon  the  mountains,  with  just 
their  heads  appearing;  and  then  they  would 
rise  diagonally,  like  the  knife  of  a  guillo- 
tine, only  to  fall  quickly,  and  cause  the  vio- 
lent struggling  and  writhing  to  be  repeated. 
At  intervals  the  sun  obtained  the  mastery, 
charging  once  more  with  his  brigades  and 
divisions ;  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet  he 
swept  down  the  swaggering  haze,  and  not 
even  the  smoke  of  battle  remained.      At 


12 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 

rare  moments  it  was  beautifully  clear,  when 
a  magnificent  panorama  was  spread  be- 
fore us.  In  such  sharp  detail  did  Mount 
Washington  then  stand  out,  that,  even 
with  our  experience,  we  fairly  shuddered 
at  the  thought  of  climbing  up  its  bleak 
and  broken  incline.  The  sun,  acting  like 
the  developer  upon  the  photographic  plate, 
brought  out 

the  delica-  g^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Sk 
cies  of  light 
and  shade 
with  aston- 
ishing pow- 
er. 

As  we  ap- 
proached the 
base  of the 
mountain  we 
found  that  a 
fresh,  deep 
snow  had 
fallen  during 
the  n  ig  h  t, 
through 
which  it  was 
impossible  for  the  horses  to  pass.  We  sent 
them  back  to  their  stable,  took  to  the  snow- 
shoes,  and  pushed  on.  It  was  then  snowing 
hard,  but  there  was  nothing  discouraging 


Overlooking  the  Clouds. 


*3 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 

about  that.  We  knew  there  was  a  loggers' 
cabin  in  the  woods  near  the  old  railroad 
depot,  where  we  could  rest  and  recupe- 
rate. We  reached  it  just  as  "John,"  the 
caterer  in  the  camp,  had  poured  the  water 
on  the  coffee  for  dinner.  We  were  invited 
to  partake  of  the  humble  meal  of  corn- 
bread,  potatoes,  coffee,  boiled  pickled  pork, 
and  black  molasses.  But  I  was  too  hungry 
to  depend  on  such  fare,  and  secretly  sneaked 
out  to  the  woodshed  where  we  landed  our 
luggage,  and  made  a  requisition  on  the 
lunch-kettle  we  had  brought  from  Little- 
ton. (It  is  only  fair  to  the  warm-hearted 
loggers  to  say  that  when  I  returned  from 
the  summit  a  few  days  after,  I  was  so 
changed,  in  some  way,  that  I  heartily 
enjoyed  their  food.) 

A  consultation  was  now  held  as  to  the 
propriety  of  making  the  ascent.  "  Mike," 
one  of  the  sturdy  woodsmen,  said  the 
weather  was  threatening,  "  but  we  might 
git  up  before  the  storm  caught  us."  The 
crust  was  all  we  could  desire,  as  no  snow 
had  fallen  upon  the  mountain  during  the 
night. 

It  was  determined  to  push  on  and  fol- 
low the  railroad  track,  only  diverting  from 
it  when  we  discovered  a  better  crust,  or  the 
deep  drifts  made  it  dangerous.      It  was  a 

14 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 


mercy  to  us  that  the  sky  was  overcast,  for 
our  eyes  were  thus  spared  much  pain. 
Mike  accompanied  us,  "  to  help  carry  the 
traps,"  I  was  informed ;  but  in  reality,  as 
I  afterward  discovered,  to  help  to  carry 
me,  in  case  I  should  "  faint  by  the  way- 
side." At  first  I  was  not  allowed  to  bear 
any  of  the  luggage.  Even  my  overcoat 
was  carried  for  me  when  the  work  grew 
warm.  But  as  I  displayed  my  power  to 
endure,  first  my  coat,  then  the  lunch-kettle, 
and  then  portions  of  the  apparatus,  were 
gradually  piled  upon  me,  until  I  bore  a  full 
share  of  the  load.  The  "wet"  photo- 
graphic process  was  all  we  knew  about 
then,  and  our  developing-tent  and  appara- 
tus aggregated  some  seventy-five  pounds  in 
weight.  Modern  "  dry  "-process  workers 
would  abandon  their  pleasant  hobby  if 
forced  to  carry  such  a  load  as  that.  Noth- 
ing occurred  to  mar  the  pleasure  of  the 
climb  until  long  after  the  tree-line  was 
passed,  and  we  came  out  into  the  "  open 
country."  The  snow  grew  softer,  even 
though  the  sun  was  not  shining.  When 
we  could,  we  took  to  the  rocks  in  prefer- 
ence. Sometimes  they  were  slippery  with 
ice,  when  it  seemed  wiser  to  walk  around 
them  and  hold  on  to  them.  As  to  one 
walking  along  a  muddy  path,  or  over  a 

*5 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 

pavement  covered  with  slush,  the  opposite 
side  ever  seems  the  most  enticing,  and  he, 
constantly  changing  his  course  from  side  to 
side,  lengthens  his  journey  with  but  little 
gain  ;  so,  when  ascending  a  mountain  in 
winter  weather,  one  is  always  tempted  to 
diverge  from  rocks  to  snow,  and  vice  versa. 
Hands  and  knees  were  sometimes  applied 
to  the  rocks.  Occasionally  a  broad  plat- 
form of  clear  gray  granite  afforded  a  place 
of  rest  and  an  opportunity  to  look  down 
upon  the  white  world  from  which  we  had 
risen.  But  when  we  turned  toward  the 
summit  of  the  "  chief,"  only  gray  clouds 
met  the  view.  Not  long  before  we  reached 
the  Half-way  House  an  advance  guard 
of  great  snowflakes  came  down  upon  us. 
They  flew  about  as  frantically  as  hornets. 
The  wind  became  as  fitful  as  a  madcap, 
and  drove  us  to  the  leeward  of  some  of  the 
higher  rocks  to  escape  the  shaking  it  threat- 
ened. Now  the  snow  seemed  ground  to 
powder,  and  was  spurted  into  our  faces  with 
cutting  force. 

Then  we  entered  a  falling  cloud,  just  as 
we  veered  to  the  right  for  the  last  long 
climb,  when  a  cold  northeast  sleet-storm 
assailed  us  on  the  left.  I  never  heard  such 
a  grinding  din  as  wild  Nature  then  made. 
We  could  not  see  a  yard  ahead,  and   the 

16 


Mount  Washing/on  in  Winter 


,    o^^ 


Near  the   Tree-line. 


noise  was  so  deafening  we  could  hardly 
hear  each  other  speak. 

"Keep  the  railway  in  sight,  gentlemen, 
or  we  are  in  danger  of  losing  our  way," 
said  the  cautious  Mike. 

We  were  now  perspiring  "  like  August 
horses,"  —  on  the  side  turned  from  the 
sleet.  On  the  side  toward  the  storm  our 
beards  were  gradually  lengthening  to  our 


17 


Mount  Washington  in   Winter 

hips.  Suddenly  the  wind  grew  more  vio- 
lent and  erratic,  and  it  became  darker 
than  twilight.  We  could  not  stand  alone. 
Joined  arm  in  arm,  one  following  the 
other  sidewise,  we  made  our  way  with 
great  difficulty  up  the  now  steepest  part  of 
the  climb.  We  had  looked  for  "  Jacob's 
Ladder  "  as  a  landmark  to  guide  us;  but 
the  driving  sleet  hid  it  from  us,  and  we 
passed  it  by  unwittingly.  We  bore  to  the 
left  to  try  to  find  it  and  get  our  direction; 
but  failing,  we  turned  to  the  right  again, 
and  tried  to  make  a  bee-line  across  the 
great  curve  of  the  railway  to  the  summit. 
We  floundered  about  there,  confused  and 
bewildered  by  the*  storm,  and  were  some- 
times compelled  to  stop,  bend  forward,  and 
turn  our  backs  until  the  gusts  had  spent 
their  strength.  We  were  never  cold,  and 
made  up  our  minds  to  gather  all  the  en- 
joyment we  could  from  this  new  experi- 
ence. Many  a  battle  with  the  elements 
had  been  fought  by  us  all  in  the  days  and 
nights  gone  by,  so  it  was  now  rather  ex- 
hilarating than  otherwise.  The  real  dan- 
ger of  the  situation,  while  it  did  not  make 
us  afraid,  caused  us  to  cling  closely  while 
we  made  one  more  effort  to  gain  ground 
against  the  storm. 

"Mike,  do  you  know  where  we  are?" 

18 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 

"  Yis,  sur ;   to  an  ell,"  he  said. 

What  a  noise  was  going  on  then  !  A 
thousand  whirling  stone-crushers,  with 
hoppers  filled  with  the  granite  of  Mount 
Washington,  could  not  make  a  greater 
racket.  What  a  giddy  shambling  followed 
Mike's  last  honest  effort  to  bring  us  to  a 
place  of  refuge!  Suddenly  we  came  into 
collision  with  an  immovable  body.  The 
shock  separated  us.  I  saw  a  black,  square 
something  nearly  facing  me.  Involun- 
tarily I  put  my  arms  out,  and  made  a 
desperate  effort  to  embrace  it.  When  I 
recovered  I  found  it  had  embraced  me. 
I  had  fallen  into  the  open  doorway  of 
the  old  depot  building,  wherein  was  lo- 
cated the  first  signal  station  of  Uncle 
Sam's  weather  bureau.  My  companions 
followed  with  less  demonstration.  In  five 
minutes  we  stood  over  the  government 
cook-stove,  thawing  out  the  icicles  from 
our  whiskers.  The  quarters  of  the  ob- 
servers then  consisted  of  one  room,  with 
double  floor  and  padded  sides  in  the  south- 
west corner  of  the  building.  Two  stoves 
were  used  to  keep  the  apartment  warm, 
and  very  often  they  failed.  Sometimes  the 
wind  drew  all  the  heat  up  the  chimneys 
as  a  cork  is  drawn  from  a  bottle.  We  were 
made  welcome  by  the  observers,  who  were 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 

expecting  us.  I  thought  I  had  never  seen 
so  comfortable  a  place ;  but,  in  fact,  I  never 
passed  so  terrible  a  night.  The  great  frame 
building  rocked  to  and  fro  like  a  ship  at 
the  mercy  of  the  sea,  and  the  growling  of 
the  storm  was  more  frightful  than  anything 
I  had  ever  experienced  on  the  water.  The 
sleeping-places — deep,  well-fastened  bunks 
—  were  arranged  at  the  south  end  of  the 
room,  one  over  the  other,  and  were  stuffed 
nearly  full  with  blankets.  Yet  one  could 
scarcely  keep  wedged  in  or  warm ;  to  sleep 
was  impossible. 

The  ascents  which  followed  varied  but 
little  in  general  method,  except  that  the 
start  was  always  made  in  the  morning  long 
before  daylight ;  and  good  weather  blessing 
us,  as  a  rule,  we  were  favored  with  such 
natural  phenomena  as  come  only  in  the 
mountains,  and  to  those  who  love  them 
enough  to  arise  early  in  the  day  to  greet 
them. 

Our  fifth  and  last  ascent  was  made  March 
2,  1886.  Modern  inventions  assisted.  The 
"  dry  "-processes  of  photography  were  em- 
ployed ;  and  the  journey  to  the  base  of 
Mount  Washington  was  made,  mostly  be- 
fore daylight,  by  the  inglorious  means  sup- 
plied by  a  caboose  on  a  lumber  train.     A 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 

deep  snow  had  fallen  upon  the  mountain 
the  night  before,  so  the  ascent  had  to  be 
started  on  snow-shoes.  We  followed  the 
sled-road  of  the  loggers  for  nearly  a  mile 
before  reaching  the  railway.  The  trees 
were  magnificently  loaded.  Falls  and  pit- 
falls were  frequent  as  soon  as  we  reached 
the  mountain,  because  the  new  snow  fell 
upon  that  which  a  rain-storm  had  soaked 
the  day 

previous.      ^~.,~  ______    ,„ __     --^^^■■ai 

Before 
we   left 
the  trees 
we  heard 
a    blast 
from   an 
Alpine 
horn; 
and  then 
we   saw 
the  great  St. 
Bernard  dog, 
"  Medford," 
come  bound- 
d  o  w  n 


'Medford  "  to  the  Rescue. 


in 


g 


through  the  snow,  barking  a  welcome. 
He  was  our  old  friend,  and  very  quickly 
secured  the  friendship  of  John's  black 
Newfoundland  by  having  a  frantic  tussle 


Mount   Washington  in   U'inter 

with  him  in  the  snow.  Medford  was 
followed  by  two  of  the  members  of  the 
Signal  Service.  We  had  telegraphed  our 
start  from  the  base,  and  they  came  down 
to  meet  us.  The  snow-shoes  were  left 
at  the  tree-line,  where  we  took  to  the 
rock  and  crust.  But  both  were  so  de- 
spairingly wet  and  slippery  that  we  left 
them  and  tried  the  cog-rail.  It  was  too 
dangerously  icy ;  so  our  last  resort  was 
the  cross-ties,  upon  which  there  remained 
a  few  inches  of  new  snow.  Thus  we  as- 
cended the  rest  of  the  way,  helped  by  our 
alpenstocks  each  step  in  advance,  strain- 
ing and  clinging  and  bowed  down  to  the 
work.  It  required  a  desperate  effort  to  hold 
our  own  against  the  wind  betimes,  and  a 
continuously  cool  head  was  needed  to  grasp 
the  situation.  When  crossing  "Jacob's  Lad- 
der" we  were  compelled  to  resort  to  "all- 
fours,"  and  more  than  once  to  lie  flat  and 
warmly  embrace  the  ice-clad  sleepers  until 
the  gusts  had  spent  their  strength.  Taken 
altogether,  this  was  the  most  difficult  iscent 
we  made.  Aching  muscles  testified  for 
a  week  afterward  that  snow-clad  railroad 
cross-ties  do  not  supply  the  choicest  kind 
of  going  to  the  mountain  climber. 

It  was  fortunate  for  us  that  we  did  not 
plan  to  make    our    excursion    three   days 


22 


Mount   11  ashington  in   Winter 

earlier,  for  on  Feb.  27  one  of  the  most  vi- 
olent storms  ever  known  on  the  moun- 
tain took  place.  The  "  boys"  thought 
their  last  day  had  come.  When  we  tapped 
at  the  observatory  door  the  sun  shone  so 
brightly,  and  the  air  was  so  clear,  that  it 
was  hard  to  realize  that  it  was  ever  any 
other  way  there.  We  had  often  realized 
differently,  however.  I  must  now  turn  to 
the  account  of  some  of  our  experiences  in 
the  neighborhood. 

So  restless  are  the  elements  on  Mount 
Washington  that  one  must  move  alertly  in 
order  to  keep  pace  with  the  strange  mu- 
tations which  they  bring  about.  A  sight 
once  lost  is  lost  forever,  for  history  is  never 
repeated  exactly  there.  The  usual  excur- 
sions made  by  summer  tourists  are  possible 
in  the  winter-time.  The  "  Presidential 
Range" — Mount  Clay,  Mount  Adams, 
Mount  Monroe,  and  Mount  Madison,  lying 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  apparently  within 
rifle-shot  distance — affords  a  fine  climb, 
with  better  going  than  is  possible  in  sum- 
mer, provided  there  is  plenty  of  snow. 
Between  it  and  Mount  Washington  lies  a 
ravine  over  a  thousand  feet  in  depth,  which 
bears  the  misnomer  of  the  "  Gulf  of  Mex- 
ico. "      Its  sides  are  precipitous  and  rocky, 

23 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 

and  the  many  springs  which  ooze  from 
them  supply  the  material  for  magnificent 
ice  formations  of  varied  colors.  The  tints 
are  imparted  by  the  mineral  substances 
through  which  the  streams  find  their  way. 
It  is  "  a  spot  of  danger/'  and  requires  good 
courage  and  a  faultless  head  to  explore 
it ;  but  the  trained  climber  will  like  the 
excitement.  When,  now  sideways,  now 
grappling  on  "all-fours,"  and  occasionally 
lengthwise,  descending,  you  have  gained 
the  top  of  some  great  jutting  rock,  then 
lie  down.  Holding  fast  lest  the  wind  catch 
you  off  guard,  peer  over  into  the  abyss,  and 
bear  witness  to  the  details  of  its  wild  envi- 
rons. You  will  then  believe  any  supersti- 
tious tale  that  is  told  you  about  the  groups 
of  demons  which  are  seen  dancing  down 
there  on  moonlight  nights,  madly  screech- 
ing in  strange  consonance  with  the  roar 
of  the  hundred  cascades  at  the  bottom  of 
the  great  pit.  From  a  rock  similar  to 
the  one  I  have  spoken  of,  I  saw  a  magnifi- 
cent display  of  the  winter  forces  one  day. 
The  exhibition  began  with  a  crash!  crash! 
crash!  underneath  me.  The  time  for 
the  release  of  the  stalactites  hanging  to  the 
rock  had  come,  and  they  started  down  the 
icy  slope  below.  As  the  descending  masses 
broke  into  fragments  of  color  and  rolled  in 

24 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 

iii.nijiwiwnilii.mn 


' 


Tuckerman's  Ravine,  from  Mount  Washington. 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 

the  wildest  confusion  down,  glittering  in 
the  sun,  the  scene  baffled  description.  A 
channel  was  cut  through  the  ice  and  snow 
deep  into  the  side  of  the  ravine  ;  the  mov- 
ing mass  then  started  on  every  side  a  can- 
nonade of  rocks  which  was  simply  terrible. 
Enough  ice  was  wasted  to  make  a  million- 
naire  —  sufficient  granite  was  torn  to  frag- 
ments to  build  a  block  of  New  York  flats 
'  —  all  rattled  down  into  the  gulf  at  once 
with  maniacal  fury,  as  if  their  mission 
were  to  burst  the  sides  of  the  great  gulf 
asunder.  Some  of  the  masses  of  ice  strik- 
ing rock  or  crust,  rebounded  like  bil- 
liard-balls, and,  whizzing  in  the  sunlight, 
glistened  like  massive  diamonds  and  ame- 
thysts and  emeralds  afire.  The  horrible 
grinding  of  the  rocks  amid  the  dust  of  the 
snow  was  even  more  exciting.  Sometimes 
the  rock  masses  overtook  one  another  in 
the  air,  and  by  the  awful  collision  reduced 
each  other  to  small  fragments.  The  line 
of  fire  was  wide  enough  to  sweep  a  bri- 
gade of  infantry  from  the  face  of  the 
earth.  How  still  it  was  when  the  last 
projectile  had  spent  its  force  against  the 
rocks  far  down  in  the  depths  of  the  gulf ! 
Such  exhibitions  are  liable  to  occur  on 
a  March  day,  when  the  sun  shines ;  and 
they  make  the  descent  into  the  ravine  dan- 

26 


Mount  M'ashington  in   Winter 

gerous,  unless  the  shadows  are  resorted  to 
for  protection. 

The  wildest  place  of  all  the  surroundings 
of  Mount  Washington  is  the  well-known 
Tuckerman's  Ravine.  It  affords  grand  op- 
portunities in  winter  for  witnessing  some 
of  the  most  curious  meteorological  phe- 
nomena. In  five  minutes  after  the  sum- 
mit of  the  mountain  is  left  you  are  out  of 
sight  of  all  the  buildings  thereon.  The 
confusion  of  rocks  is  the  same  in  every 
direction,  and  you  are  in  chaos.  The  brisk 
cannonading  I  have  described  is  of  frequent 
occurrence  here;  but  even  more  mysterious 
is  the  manoeuvring  of  the  clouds.  Wit- 
nessed from  a  good  stand  point  far  down 
in  the  ravine,  on  a  favorable  day,  nothing 
could  be  more  grand.  Boiling  and  seeth- 
ing, they  rise  and  ride  and  drive  without 
apparent  purpose.  I  have  seen  the  great 
masses  separate,  and  one  section  continue 
on  its  hasty  journey,  until,  as  though  real- 
izing its  loss,  suddenly  it  would  stop,  then 
go  back,  make  fast  to  the  lost  section,  and 
continue  on  its  course  around  or  up  the 
mountain.  Sometimes  the  wind  tears  the 
great  gray  masses  asunder,  and  carries  them 
in  various  directions  as  easily  as  a  spider 
hauls  a  fly  across  her  web.  When  they 
have  reached  the  places  willed  by  the  in- 

27 


Mount  Washington  in   Whiter 


visible  power,  the  detached  masses  are  sent 
whirling  about  the  neighboring  mountains, 
as  though  in  search  of  some  lost  member 
of  their  force.  In  the  summer-time  they 
are  not  so  placid  as  in  winter,  for  the  rat- 
tling thunder  accompanies  such  contentions 
almost  any  time  after  the  mercury  reaches 
"  sixty  above." 

On  a  cold  day,  when  the  clouds  have  all 
been  sent  on  distant  missions,  and  no  haze 
obscures  the  view,  the  side  of  Mount  Wash- 
ington toward  Tuckerman's  Ravine  resem- 
bles a  steep  cathedral  roof,  with  thousands 
of  buttresses  as  white  as  the  finest  Carrara 
marble,  and  as  glittering  as  the  alabaster 
of  the  Nile.  After  a  new  snow  on  such 
a  day,  and  with  the  right  sort  of  wind,  the 
most  wildly  exciting  of  all  exhibitions  takes 
place.  The  snow  begins,  with  an  ecstatic 
gyration,  to  rise  from  the  crest  of  the  ravine 
in  the  form  of  a  slender  column.  It  gathers 
body  as  it  rises,  and,  like  the  clay  in  the 
hands  of  the  potter,  seems  to  swell  as 
though  it  was  a  cylinder,  and  the  snow 
was  rising  inside  it,  increasing  its  diameter. 
How  it  spins  —  then  struggles  —  then  with 
awful  speed  approaches  the  verge  of  the 
ravine,  and  leaps  out  into  space.  Only  a 
little  imagination  is  needed  now  to  picture 
the  monster  reaching  out  its  arms  franti- 

28 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 

cally,  and  shrieking.  It  hangs  aloft  for  a 
moment,  trembling  and  vibrating ;  then 
the  wind  receives  it  in  its  broad  lap,  and 
with  relentless  hand  sows  it  broadcast  over 
the  terrible  ravine.  One  after  the  other 
the  snow  monsters  quickly  follow  —  down 
to  their  doom.  Thus  snow-squalls  are 
born,  and  thus  the  depth  of  snow  to  a 
thousand  feet  is  packed  down  in  the  bot- 
tom of  Tuckerman's  Ravine  to  shape  the 
great  "snow-arch"  which  so  many  visit 
every  summer. 

Every  day  new  experiences,  always  mar- 
vellous, may  be  had  when  the  storms  per- 
mit a  visit  to  these  deep  places.  It  is 
never  safe  to  go  down  into  them  alone, 
unless  calm  and  clear  weather  are  assured. 
You  may  feel  that  your  experience  has 
enabled  you  to  place  all  confidence  in  your 
own  eye,  in  judging  of  snow  and  slide,  and 
in  unravelling  the  time-worn  and  time- 
scarred  passages ;  you  may  feel  satisfacto- 
rily conscious  of  the  power  of  your  strong 
arms  to  hack  and  hew  your  way  through 
difficulties ;  memories  of  former  tastes  of 
the  glorious  luxury  of  being  entirely  alone, 
where  all  nature  is  beautiful,  may  tempt 
you  ;  but  at  high  elevations  in  winter  you 
should  draw  the  line.  Self-reliance  is  a 
good  element,  but  it  is  always  best  to  pool 

29 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 


your  supply  with  another  of  equal  met- 
tle. You  take  your  life  in  your  hands 
when  you  attempt  "snow-work"  alone.  A 
misstep  may  break  a  leg  or  hold  you  fast. 
Yet,  battling  with  the  elements  on  Mount 
Washington  is  the  most  exhilarating  exer- 
cise one  can  take  —  with  wise  precautions,, 
A  journey  down  to  the  "  Lake  of  the 
Clouds"  gives  the  wind  a  fair  chance  at 
the  ambitious  climber,  and  is  a  fine  expe- 
rience. The  broad  expanses  on  every  side 
cause  one  to  shudder  at  the  thought  of 
being  driven  down  one  of  them  with  no 
power  of  resistance.  In  the  coloring  of 
the  air,  so  peculiar  to  this  westerly  side  of 
the  mountain,  and  in  the  grandeur  of  the 
great  sleeping  masses  which  lie  down 
toward  the  Crawford  Notch,  and  upon 
which  the  colors  fall,  no  matter  when  vou 
look  upon  them,  you  are  sure  to  find  re- 
vealed grand  features  that  lift  up  your  soul 
to  a  new  majesty. 

A  much  more  picturesque  series  of  ex- 
cursions is  afforded  by  the  "  Glen  "  car- 
riage-road. At  night  and  day,  a  visit  at 
any  lookout  on  this  road  well  repays  for 
all  the  labor  entailed  and  for  some  meas- 
ure of  risk.  On  a  clear  day,  when  the 
sunbeams  glide  over  the  peaks  and  up  the 
valleys,  unrestrained  except  by  the  broad 

30 


Mount  Washington  in   Winter 


The  "Presidential  Range  "  and  "  Gulf  of  Mexico"  from  Mount  Washingtc 


shadows  of  the  mountains,  the  distant 
views,  all  the  way  down  "  to  the  earth/' 
are  very  fine.  Toward  evening,  or  close 
on  to  a  storm-coming,  the  gauzy  haze  be- 
gins to  soften  the  outlines  and  dilute  the 
coloring  of  the  mountains.  Then  the 
mist,  rising  and  thickening,  joins  forces 
with  the  wind,  and  the  creation  of  the 
most  peculiar  of  all  the  results  of  the  cold 
begins.      I   allude    to  what    the    observers 


31 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 


term  "frost-feathers."  I  have  often  stooped 
to  "  talk  "  to  tiny  ones  in  the  Alps,  but  I 
believe  they  are  not  known  elsewhere  as 
large  as  those  found  on  Mount  Washing- 
ton. The  absolute  transformation  brought 
about  by  them  is  bewilderingly  lovely. 
One  hour  after  the  wind  has  driven  every 
vestige  of  snow  from  the  summit,  and  the 
buildings  are  as  clear  of  snow  as  when 
newly  constructed,  they  may  all  become 
covered  with  frost-feathers  so  profusely 
that  every  rigid  outline  is  gone,  and  every 
object  appears  like  a  confused  mass  of 
eiderdown.  More  than  three-fourths  of 
the  time  the  summit  is  cloud-enveloped, 
on  account  of  the  warm  air  which  arises 
"from  the  world"  and  condenses  overhead. 
When  a  certain  degree  of  humidity  is 
reached,  the  mist  freezes  the  instant  it 
touches  anything.  We  will  suppose  that 
the  wind  drives  it  against  a  telegraph-pole. 
A  frozen  layer  is  deposited  upon  this,  and 
is  instantly  followed  by  another  and  an- 
other, until,  if  the  wind  does  not  change, 
a  "  feather  "  branches  out  horizontally 
from  the  telegraph-pole  until  the  strange 
creation  points  out  into  the  air,  one,  two, 
three  —  rive  feet  or  more.  Over  this  and 
under  it  and  alongside  of  it,  other  forma- 
tions go  on,  shaped  like  the  wings  of  sculp- 

3? 


Mount  11  'ashington  in   II  'infer 


tured  angels,  or  like  the  tails  and  wings  of 
doves  in  the  old-time  tomb-marbles,  every 
bit  as  pure  and  white  and  soft  as  alabaster. 
Their  growth  is  very  rapid.  If  a  flat  sur- 
face is  chosen  by  the  eccentric  sculptor, 
then  the  feathers  radiate  irregularly  from 
a  central  point,  and  are  moulded  into  fas- 
cinating patterns  as  delicate  as  fern  leaves 
and  the  feathers  of  birds,  and  always  at  an 
angle  over  each  other.  They  are  not  like 
ice  or  snow  or  frost.  They  bend  like 
tendon,  and  they  are  as  tough  as  muscle. 
When  melted,  the  most  pure  water  possi- 
ble is  the  result.  Where  fractured,  their 
glistening,  granular  substance  looks  like 
marble  or  alabaster.  Everything  becomes 
covered  and  coated  by  them.  When  you 
tread  upon  them  they  are  found  to  be 
elastic,  and  a  peculiar  nervousness  takes 
possession  of  you.  A  latticed  window  cov- 
ered with  them  is  more  charming  than 
an  Arabic  Mashrebeyeh  screen,  with  its 
delicately  pierced  patterns  and  its  intri- 
cately chiselled  bars.  The  feathered  side 
of  a  tall  rock  appears  like  an  obelisk  high 
in  air;  every  inch  is  hieroglyphed  by  deep- 
cut  characters,  which,  though  beyond  the 
ken  of  your  philology,  are  full  of  meaning, 
and  make  plain  a  lesson  of  the  beautiful. 
As  soon  as  the  wind  changes,  these  lovely 

33 


Mount  Washington  in   Winter 

creations  droop,  drop,  and  disintegrate, 
while  others  form  in  their  places,  always 
on  the  windward  side  of  the  objects  which 
they  choose  to  glorify.  Never  does  'the 
summit  of  Mount  Washington  and  the 
objects  about  it  appear  in  such  imposing 
glory  as  when  lustred  by  frost-feathers.  If 
you  will  walk  back  of  the  signal  station 
on  a  moonlight  night,  before  the  moon  is 
very  high,  when  the  frost  formations  are 
favorable,  and  look  down  the  railway,  the 
draped  telegraph-poles  will  resemble  a  pro- 
cession of  tall  spectres  —  or,  if  you  choose, 
monks  or  one-armed  dervishes,  half  in 
shadow  and  half  in  the  glittering  light, 
marching  to  the  shrill  fifing  of  the  wind, 
or  gliding  along  with  the  rich  contra-basso 
which  comes  up  from  the  wide  mouth  of 
the  ravine.  What  a  bejewelled  world  it 
all  makes  ! 

If  there  was  no  other  diversion  on  Mount 
Washington,  watching  the  intermittent  ex- 
tinction and  generation  of  the  clouds  affords 
sufficient  interest  to  occupy  much  of  the 
time.  There  are  "  best  days "  for  this, 
however,  as  well  as  for  the  other  sights. 
The  summit  of  the  mountain  must  be 
clear,  and  the  sun  should  shine  brightly. 
Then,  if  a  snow-storm  forms,  say  a  mile 
below,  one  of  the  most  enchanting  of  all 


A f 071  tit   Washington  in   II  'inter 


natural  convulsions  delights  the  observer. 
The  unsubstantial  formations  rival  in  gran- 
deur the  solid  mountains  themselves.  Dis- 
turbed by  the  warm  air  below  them,  and 
chilled  by  the  cold  blasts  above,  the  great 
seas  of  vapor  begin  to  roll  and  tumble  and 
pitch,  until  a  regular  tempest  forms,  and 
sways  them  all.  The  billows  form  great 
swells  and  depressions.  They  break  an- 
grily against  the  rocky  mountain,  and  their 
snowy  spray  flies  high  in  the  air.  Rising 
and  falling,  twisting  and  tangling,  they  tell 
of  the  falling  flakes  and  grinding  snow-dust 
with  which  the  earth  is  being  visited.  The 
more  the  commotion,  the  more  active  is 
the  fall  going  on  below.  How  they  toss 
and  tumble,  and  how  magnificent  are  the 
changes  of  light  and  shade  ! 

I  witnessed  the  finest  show  I  ever  saw 
of  this  nature  one  afternoon,  about  half 
an  hour  before  sunset.  The  great  orb 
seemed  to  sink  into  a  sea  of  saffron  ;  yet 
it  shone  with  almost  painful  brilliancy. 
Suddenly  upon  the  cloud  surface  in  front 
of  my  standpoint,  a  mile  below  my  feet, 
a  great  mass  of  shining  light  appeared. 
It  was  as  brilliant  as  the  sun,  and  of  about 
the  same  color.  It  was  a  "sun-dog,"  — 
the  image  of  the  sun  reflected  on  the  white 
bosom  of  the  snow-storm.      It  remained  in 

35 


Mount  Washington  in  It 'inter 

sight  for  some  time,  and  was  caught  by 
the  camera.  The  snow-storm  continued, 
and  the  sun  departed  amid  an  attendance 
of  clouds  equal  in  glory  to  any  summer 
sunset  I  ever  saw.  The  coloring  upon 
the  upper  surface  of  that  raging  snow- 
storm was  beyond  the  gift  of  the  painter 
to  counterfeit.  As  soon  as  its  life  went 
away  the  stars  began  to  appear,  for  night 
comes  quickly.  I  heard  a  great  screech 
down  in  the  valley,  and  saw  a  tiny  glow 
coming  toward  me,  like  a  "will-o'-the- 
wisp."  It  was  the  headlight  of  a  loco- 
motive on  the  Grand  Trunk  Railway  at 
Gorham.  Then  the  nearly  full  moon  grew 
stronger;  and  a  vast  triangular  shadow  ot 
the  mountain  was  projected  upon  the  cloud 
surface,  black  and  solid  and  threatening, 
where  but  a  few  moments  ago  I  saw  the 
boiling  color.  Soon  the  snow-like  sphere 
cleared  the  mountain-top,  and  all  space  on 
every  side  was  illuminated  down  as  far  as 
the  clouds.  But  they  continued  to  boil 
and  drive  and  snow. 

From  a  point  opposite  I  have  watched 
the  clouds  at  break  of  day,  and  have  tramped 
my  circuit  in  order  to  keep  warm  while 
the  process  of  sun-rising  and  cloud-disper- 
sion went  on.  Few  have  ever  beheld  such 
transcendent  glory  at  sunrise  as  Mr.  Kil- 

36 


Mount   ll'ashiiigton  in   Winter 


burn  and  I  did  one  March  morning  from 
Mount  Washington.  At  first  the  cloud 
masses  seemed  to  reach  from  us,  ninety 
miles,  to  the  Atlantic,  over  Portland  way. 
A  crimson  glow,  blended  into  orange  and 
gray,  then  arose  like  a  screen  —  a  back- 
ground for  the  enchanting  scene  which 
approached.  The  clouds  grew  uneasy  at 
this,  but  joining  forces,  resisted,  and  for  a 
time  hindered,  the  progress  of  the  drama. 
Then  yielding,  they  separated  here  and 
there,  and  we  could,  with  the  field-glass 
we  had,  catch  glimpses  of  light  through 
the  rifts.  The  earth  was  in  full  sunshine. 
We  saw  the  streets  of  the  villages.  Men, 
pygmy-  sized, 
were  shovel- 
ling snow,  and 
tiny  horses  and 
sleighs  passed 
in  sight. 
Then  the  - 
clouds  shut 
in,  and  the 
mountain 
was  in  twi- 
light once 
more.  A 
great  cloud- 
parting  took  Frost  Feathers.    Tip -Top  House. 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 

place,  and  the  mass  below  us  broke  into 
a  thousand  fragments.  These  gambolled 
and  rolled  wildly  from  side  to  side,  and  car- 
ried with  them  fragments  of  gaudy  spectra 
which  resembled  broad  segments  of  rain- 
bows. Every  moment  there  was  a  change 
of  form  and  color.  Again  through  the 
rifts  we  saw  the  world.  Now  the  many 
tints  became  more  scattered  as  the  clouds 
rose  with  the  light,  and  interfered  with 
its  course.  Only  the  snow-storm  equalled 
the  billowy  confusion  —  nothing  ever 
equalled  the  coloring.  At  last  a  gleam 
of  light  shone  in  the  observatory  window, 
and  caused  our  sleepy  hosts  to  turn  under 
their  blankets.  The  sun  has  risen  on 
Mount  Washington. 

Another  phenomenon  I  witnessed  once 
only.  It  began  between  ten  and  eleven 
a.m.,  and  lasted  almost  an  hour.  At  first  a 
great,  broad,  gray  ring,  quite  luminous,  ap- 
peared around  the  sun.  It  was  a  "clear" 
day,  but  the  firmament  was  scarcely  blue. 
A  secondary  ring,  as  large  and  as  broad  and 
nearly  as  luminous,  formed,  with  the  sun 
at  its  eastern  edge  and  half  within  the 
ring.  At  three  other  points  of  this  ring, 
and  with  the  sun  dividing  it  into  four  equal 
segments,  were  "sun-dogs,"  very  bright, 
with  a  prismatic  corona  around  them. 

38 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 

One  of  the  ordinary  diversions  "  on  the 
hill  "  is  to  stand  on  "  Observatory  Rock," 
west  of  the  signal  station  and  just  a  little 
below,  to  see  the  great  pyramidal  shadow 
of  the  mountain  cast  by  the  rising  sun  on 
the  snow  just  before  the  rosy  glow  comes 
shooting  over  the  frost-feathered  ridgepole 
of  the  Signal  Service  station.  It  is  as  black 
as  the  shadow  of  the  real  pyramid  cast  by 
the  sun  or  moon  upon  the  yellow  sand  of 
the  desert  of  Gizeh.  When  the  atmos- 
phere is  sufficiently  clear,  as  it  frequently 
is,  the  mountains  nearly  a  hundred  miles 
away  appear  sharp  and  near.  The  whole 
White  Mountain  range  is  unobscured. 

"Oh,  the  mountains!  the  mountains!  " 
exclaimed  my  enthusiastic  companion, 
when  we  witnessed  the  last  sunset  together 
there.  "  I  never  saw  them  look  as  they 
have  looked  to-day."  This  was  an  oft-re- 
peated saying,  but  it  was  always  true ;  for 
in  fact  the  mountains  never  appear  two 
days  the  same.  Either  sun  or  storm,  or 
cloud  or  the  seasons,  or  all  combined,  work 
up  a  composite  for  each  day,  always  full 
of  character,  but  never  twice  alike.  There- 
fore the  mountain-lover,  unlike  the  fisher- 
man, is  "always  in  luck."  He  always  finds 
"  peace,  beauty,  and  grandeur  "  harmoni- 
ously blended  ;    and  he  is  ever   "  brimful 

39 


Mount  Washington  in   Winter 

of  content. "  Whether  breasting  a  storm 
or  standing  victorious  upon  some  hardly- 
gained  height,  he  is  always  sure  to  be  re- 
paid well  for  all  his  endurance  by  the  glo- 
ries which  surround  him.  Truly  has  that 
stanch  climber  in  the  Alps,  Professor  Tyn- 
dall,  said  :  "  For  the  healthy  and  pure  in 
heart  these  higher  snow-fields  are  conse- 
crated ground." 

Almost  every  one  is  familiar  with  the  du- 
ties and  the  functions  of  the  observers  of 
the  Signal  Service.  But  on  Mount  Wash- 
ington their  duties  are  peculiar.  Seven 
observations  must  be  made  daily.  The  re- 
cording-sheet of  the  anemometer  must  be 
changed  at  noon.  Three  of  the  seven  ob- 
servations must  be  forwarded  in  telegraphic 
cipher  to  the  Boston  station.  Routine 
office- work  —  letters  received  and  sent  — 
must  have  attention  between-times,  and 
several  blank  forms  must  be  filled  with 
statistics.  The  battery  and  the  wire  of 
the  telegraph  plant  must  receive  careful  at- 
tention, and  the  matter  of  repairs  is  no  in- 
considerable one.  The  station  on  Mount 
Washington  is  the  bleakest,  and,  with  one 
exception,  the  coldest,  in  the  service. 
Three  to  four  men,  including  a  cook,  are 
usually  there,  with  one  cat  and  one  dog. 

40 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 


Sunset.     A   Sun-doe'  on  the  Sutnv-clouds 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 

Life  would  be  very  hard  to  bear  there,  were 
it  not  for  the  click  !  click  !  click  !  of  the 
telegraph  instrument,  which  is  the  active 
connecting  link  with  the  world  —  the 
mainstay  and  hope  of  these  recluses.  And 
then  flirtations  with  the  world's  operators 
is  a  necessity.  A  regular  consternation  oc- 
curs in  camp  when  a  storm  breaks  the 
wires  and  connection  is  lost.  In  such 
cases  the  observers  risk  their  lives  in  storm 
and  cold  in  search  for  the  break,  rather 
than  be  without  the  assurance  of  safety 
which  the  click  seems  to  impart.  The 
men  live  on  as  good  food  as  can  be.  The 
larder  is  supplied  in  September,  and  the 
"  refrigerator"  (the  top  story  of  the  obser- 
vatory) is  stocked  at  the  same  time.  Meat 
and  poultry  are  placed  there  already  frozen, 
and  they  do  not  thaw  "during  the  season/' 
The  water-supply  comes  from  the  frost- 
feathers.  Care  is  taken  that  two  or  three 
barrels  of  these  are  stored  in  the  back  shed 
always,  and  a  boiler  full  of  them  in  half- 
melted  condition  is  ever  upon  the  cook- 
stove.  A  water  famine  has  been  known 
to  occur,  when  from  the  oversight  of  the 
cook  the  supply  of  frost-feathers  has  been 
allowed  to  go  down,  or  "  poor  weather  for 
frost-feathers  "  comes  along.  A  drink  of 
this  all-healing  feather  water  can  always 

43 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 

be  found  on  the  stove,  icy  cold,  if  the  cook 
attends  to  his  duty. 

A  hurricane  at  sea  is  hardly  less  fright- 
ful than  a  big  blow  on  Mount  Washing- 
ton. I  was  literally  blown  out  of  bed  one 
night.  I  was  about  to  accuse  my  bed- 
fellow of  kicking  me  out,  when  instantly 
he  came  following  me.  The  grind  out- 
side was  frightful.  We  knew  the  airy 
structure  was  cabled  and  anchored  to  the 
rocks  by  ship's  chains;  but  they  seemed  to 
expand  so  that  it  shook  like  an  aspen  leaf, 
and  creaked  like  an  old  sailing-vessel.  The 
wind  tussled  with  the  double  windows,  and 
capered  over  the  roof  like  a  thousand  ogres. 
There  was  no  sleep  for  any  one  when  there 
was  "  such  a  knockin'  at  de  do'  !  ' 

Morning  was  always  a  relief  after  such 
a  storm,  even  if  it  brought  no  cessation  and 
but  little  light.  Sometimes  the  feathers  so 
obscure  the  windows  that  the  lamps  must 
be  lighted  in  daytime.  At  other  times 
the  wind  tears  so  through  the  building 
that  the  lights  cannot  burn.  With  all  the 
fires  going  the  mercury  has  been  known 
to  fall  23  degrees  below  zero  inside  the 
observatory.  On  Dec.  16,  1876,  the  tem- 
perature outside  fell  to  40  degrees  below. 
The  mean  temperature  for  the  day  was 
22.5   degrees   below.      The  wind   was   at 

44 


Mount  Washington  in   Winter 

80  miles  at  7  a.m.,  120  miles  at  12.22 
p.m.,  160  miles  at  4.57  p.m.,  100  miles  at 
9  p.m.,  and  180  miles  at  midnight.  The 
force  of  the  wind  was  terrible ;  and  at 
times  masses  of  ice  were  blown  loose,  mak- 
ing it  extremely  dangerous  to  stand  under 
the  lee  of  the  building.  The  window  on 
that  side  was  fastened  with  planks  in  case 
of  accident. 

One  of  the  greatest  storms  ever  known 
occurred  in  February,  1886.  The  mer- 
cury dropped  to  51  degrees  below  zero, 
and  the  wind  rattled  around  at  the  rate 
of  184  miles  an  hour.  It  tore  down  one 
of  the  buildings,  and  fired  its  parts  against 
the  observatory,  threatening  to  break  in 
all  its  doors  and  windows  and  the  roof. 
Bat  the  stanch  little  building  had  a  tough, 
thick  coating  of  frost-feathers  then,  which 
proved  to  be  a  real  protection  to  it,  and 
so  escaped.  It  was  no  pleasant  task,  how- 
ever, to  sit  there  and  hear  the  twisting  and 
crunching  of  the  timbers  of  the  neigh- 
boring building  as  they  fell  a  prey  to  the 
angry  elements.  The  anemometer  on  the 
roof  was  carried  away  from  its  bearings 
that  night.  A  few  days  afterward  a  simi- 
lar storm  came  up,  but  not  quite  so  violent 
a  one.  Mr.  Kilburn  and  I  made  the  as- 
cent the  day  before.      A  strong  rope  was 

45 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 

tied  around  the  waist  of  Sergeant  Line 
when  he  climbed  to  the  roof  to  make  his 
afternoon  observations,  with  all  but  one 
of  us  anchored  at  the  other  end  of  the 
rope.  The  camera  caught  him  in  the 
act.  The  wind-cups  of  the  anemometer 
were  spinning  around  so  they  could  not 
be  seen  with  the  naked  eye  ;  and  yet  in 
the  photograph  they  plainly  show  as  a 
blurred  circle,  or  resembling  more  a  tube 
bent  into  circular  form. 

But  for  these  excitements  "  the  boys  " 
would  suffer  from  ennui.  They  insist  that 
their  life  "  on  the  hill "  is  not  the  most 
happy  one  in  winter.  It  has  frequently 
been  broken  into  by  sorrow  and  sadness 
too.  One  observer  died  there,  Feb.  26, 
1872;  and  his  companion  was  alone  with 
his  dead  body  for  two  days  before  the 
storm  would  allow  any  one  to  come  up  to 
him.  A  coarse  coffin  was  made,  and  a  rude 
sled;  and  then  a  solemn  procession  moved 
slowly  down  the  mountain-side,  over  the 
snow,  that  the  mortal  remains  of  a  brave 
boy  might  be  deposited  under  the  earth. 

It  was  a  matter  of  "turn"  with  the 
observers  who  should  go  to  the  base  peri- 
odically with  and  for  the  mail.  These 
journeys  were  often  attended  with  much 
peril,  and  necessarily  were  frequently  pro- 

46 


Mount  Washington  in   Winter 


longed  so  as  to  cause  much  anxiety.  The 
relation  of  one  such  incident  will  suffice  to 
show  what  it  meant  sometimes  to  be  a 
member  of  the  Signal  Service  stationed  on 
Mount  Washington. 

Never  was  there  a  kinder  heart  engaged 
in  the  service  than  that  of  Sergeant  Wm. 
Line,  now  ( i  89 1 )  stationed  at  Northrield, 
Vt.  (where  he  died  in  1895).  He  served 
on  Mount  Washington  for  quite  five  years 
(from    1872    to    1877),    an^    I    met   him 

there  several 
times.  As 
near  as  I  can 
remember 
them,  I  will 
in  his  own 
words  relate 
the  story  of 
what  he 
considers  his 
most  peril- 
ous ascent. 
1 1  occurred 
on  Nov.  23, 
1  875.  The  day  was  unpromising.  Against 
his  judgment  he  left  Fabyan's  at  about  nine 
a.m.,  with  the  mail  accumulated,  for  the 
summit.  The  team  engaged  to  take  him 
to  the  base  could  only  pass  a  little  beyond 

47 


Measuring  the  Wind 


Mount   Washington  in   11' inter 


Twin  Rivers,  so  from  there  he  took  to  the 
snow-shoes.  Arriving  at  the  base,  he  found 
every  building  deserted.  At  eleven  a.m., 
without  a  word  of  cheer  from  any  one, 
and  alone,  he  began  the  ascent.  The  old 
Waumbek  Station-house  was  passed,  and 
the  foot  of  "Jacob's  Ladder"  was  gained 
in  safety  after  two  hours  of  pretty  hard 
work.  The  snow  was  then  three  or  four 
feet  deep,  and  the  gusts  of  wind  began  to 
increase  in  power  and  in  frequency.  A 
few  steps  only  could  be  made  in  the  lulls 
between  the  gusts.  When  the  hard  blows 
came  he  was  forced  to  lie  down  until  they 
had  gone  over  him.  An  hour  was  con- 
sumed in  climbing  the  next  half-mile. 
When  the  Car  House  (used  for  storing 
tools  and  railway  appliances)  came  into 
view,  Sergeant  Line  tried  to  reach  it.  A 
gust  carried  him  to  the  railroad  track. 
He  caught  the  T  rail  in  his  hands,  when 
his  body  was  blown  up  against  the  cross- 
ties,  and  held  there  for  some  time.  The 
next  lull  allowed  a  little  progress ;  and  the 
Gulf  Station-house  could  be  seen,  but  it 
could  not  be  reached.  Said  Sergeant 
Line  :  — 

"  I  found  I  was  being  swept  rapidly  to- 
ward the  Great  Gulf,  so  I  floundered  my- 
self over  against  a  rock,  and  succeeded  in 

48 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 

coming  to  a  halt.  After  resting  a  while, 
assisted  by  my  pike-pole,  I  tried  to  reach 
the  house  ;  but  it  was  impossible.  I  could 
not  breathe  facing  such  a  wind;  so  I  lay 
down,  and,  feet  first,  backed  up  the  snow- 
drift which  had  piled  up  near  the  building. 
Such  procedure  was  slow,  but  sure  ;  thus 
the  house  was  reached.  I  could  not  see 
it;  but  I  knew  when  I  had  reached  it,  for 
I  fell  about  six  feet  down  the  inside  incline 
of  the  drift,  and  brought  up  at  the  house. 
The  wind  had  driven  the  snow  clear  away 
from  the  building,  all  around  it,  for  some 
distance.  I  was  unharmed,  and  quite  con- 
tent to  be  out  of  the  power  of  the  wind. 
At  three-thirty  p.m.  I  started  on  the  jour- 
ney again,  having  recuperated  my  strength 
in  the  house.  Hardly  had  I  opened  the 
storm-door  when  it  was  banged  shut  again 
with  such  force  as  to  break  it  in  two.  The 
wind  subsided  somewhat  in  an  hour,  when 
I  made  another  start.  After  many  efforts 
I  gained  the  top  of  the  bank  of  snow,  only 
to  be  whirled  back,  and  lodged  under  one 
of  the  supports  of  the  building.  I  con- 
cluded it  was  useless  to  try  to  reach  the 
summit  before  night;  so  I  returned  to  the 
house,  and  gathering  what  wood  I  could, 
I  proceeded  to  make  a  fire.  When  pre- 
pared  to  strike  a   light,   to   my  horror   I 

49 


Mount  Washington  in   Winter 

found  my  match-box  was  gone.  It  had 
rolled  out  of  my  pocket  during  one  of  my 
tussles  with  the  wind.  A  frantic  search 
revealed  in  my  vest  pocket  a  single  match, 
which  had  been  given  me  in  the  morning 
with  a  cigar.  It  was  damp  ;  but  knowing 
that  my  life  depended  upon  it,  I  carefully 
dried  it  between  thumb  and  finger,  and 
with  anxious  heart  tried  to  ignite  it.  Gen- 
tle frictions  gradually  restored  it  —  it  ig- 
nited—  I  was  saved.  At  seven  p.m.  I  had 
a  good  fire.  I  found  an  old  teapot  con- 
taining some  tea  that  was  steeped  four 
months  before.  It  tasted  like  turnips. 
But  with  it,  and  some  cakes  Mrs.  Line 
had  put  in  my  knapsack  in  Littleton,  I 
made  a  fine  supper.  I  was  tired  by  my 
day's  work,  and  soon  after  I  fell  asleep. 
It  was  seven  a.m.  before  I  awoke.  In  a 
few  minutes  after  I  was  on  my  way  again. 
I  was  making  good  progress,  and  was  near 
the  summit,  when  I  met  my  companion, 
Mr.  King,  coming  down  the  mountain  to 
search  for  me.  I  am  sure  he  was  glad  to 
be  relieved  of  a  great  anxiety,  such  as  we 
had  all  shared  in  the  past  when  searching 
for  the  bewildered  and  the  lost.  Hardly 
had  we  reached  the  platform  in  front  of 
the  hotel  on  the  summit  when  we  heard 
voices.      Immediately  three  men  appeared 

50 


Mount   Washington  in   IV inter 


Valley  of  A  mmonoosuc. 


coming  up  out  of  the  fog.  They  were 
Mr.  B.  W.  Kilburn  of  Littleton,  and 
Messrs.  Band  and  Gallagher.  The  last 
two  had  been  requested  by  Mr.  Kilburn 
to  join  him  in  his  search  for  me.  He 
had  been  awakened  near  midnight  by  the 
telegraph  operator  with  the  intelligence 
that  I  was  lost  on  the  mountain.  Imme- 
diately and  alone  he  started  in  his  sleigh 
for  Fabyan's,  travelling  all  the  rest  of  the 

51 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 

night  in  the  storm  and  cold.  From  Fab- 
yan's  he  walked  to  the  base.  He  lost  his 
way  once  in  the  meadows  before  reaching 
Fabyan's,  as  it  was  then  so  dark,  and  so 
rough  was  the  storm.  He  searched  the 
mountain  for  me,  and  saw  where  I  had 
rested  on  the  way.  Had  he  been  an  hour 
earlier  he  would  have  passed  me  while  I 
slept.  No  one  appreciates  better  than  I 
do  what  heroism  it  required  to  undertake 
such  a  search.  While  we  breakfasted  to- 
gether, and  related  our  experiences,  an 
inquiry  came  from  headquarters  at  Wash- 
ington as  to  my  whereabouts.  In  a  few 
minutes  after  a  message  from  Littleton 
came,  announcing  that  six  men  had  left 
there  to  help  Mr.  Kilburn.  Then  a  third 
message  reported  that  the  railroad  com- 
pany had  detailed  fifty  men,  with  pick 
and  shovel,  to  search  for  the  man  who 
was  lost.  But  my  brave  friend  headed  off 
all  these  generous  enterprises  by  quickly 
returning  to  the  base  with  the  intelligence 
that  the  lost  was  found."  * 

Many  times  the  observers  risked  their 
own  lives  to  rescue  the  perishing.  A  tele- 
gram was  always  sent  from  Littleton  when 


*  The  Government  signal  station  on  Mount  Washington 
having  been  abandoned,  a  winter  ascent  should  not  be  attempted 
without  a  careful  guide. 

52 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 

any  one  started  "  up  the  hill ;  "  and  if  a 
fairly  prompt  arrival  was  not  made,  a 
searching  party  was  at  once  sent  out  from 
the  observatory.  Help  from  Littleton  was 
also  called  for.  Brave  hearts  always  re- 
sponded promptly  in  such  cases. 

One  descent,  which  I  shall  describe,  was 
eventful,  and  typical  of  all  the  similar  jour- 
neys I  had  made.  With  long,  swinging 
strides  we  started  down  the  slope,  crushing 
at  every  step  enough  beauty  and  glory  to 
excite  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  the 
world.  The  sky  was  blue,  and  the  wea- 
ther-makers promised  us  a  "  clear  day/' 
The  dawn  had  developed  into  glorious 
morning,  and  the  sun  was  pouring  its 
libations  of  gold  and  purple  over  the 
mountains  and  down  into  the  frozen  val- 
leys. Again  we  saw  the  loftier  heights 
tinged  with  rosy  hue,  while  the  limitless 
shadows  which  fell  upon  the  snowy  slopes 
caught  and  repeated  the  soft  azure  of  the 
sky.  The  crust  was  hard,  the  rocks  were 
glaced,  and  long  fields  of  ice  stretched  be- 
tween them,  which  made  the  descent  a 
dangerous  one.  We  passed  from  snow- 
crust  to  ice,  and  from  ice  to  rock  alter- 
nately. The  thin  ice  upon  the  rocks,  over 
which  the  melted  snow  had  trickled  the 

53 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 

day  before,  was  the  most  troublesome,  and 
required  great  caution.  Once  with  my 
alpenstock  I  made  a  mighty  advance- 
lunge  at  such  a  rock,  in  order  to  obtain 
a  stop  for  breath  when  I  had  leaped  upon 
it.  Alas  !  the  ice  was  not  so  thick  as  I  had 
anticipated.  The  steel  point  glanced,  and 
my  staff  went  from  my  hand,  leaping 
through  the  air,  and  ringing  like  a  bell 
as  it  went.  I  soon  forgot  my  loss  in 
watching  its  strange  antics.  For  a  mo- 
ment it  glided  over  the  broad  ice-slope 
below,  half  erect ;  then  it  fell  and  bound- 
ed up  and  down  like  a  rod  of  iron,  until, 
striking  another  rock  end  first,  it  came  up 
all  standing  again,  then  again  flew  through 
the  air  as  before.  It  turned  and  rolled 
over,  and  shifted  end  for  end,  slid  side- 
ways, bounded  and  leaped,  gaining  speed 
as  it  went,  far  away  from  my  recovery. 
The  last  bound  I  saw  it  make  was  into  a 
ravine.  Fortunately  we  had  bound  dupli- 
cate staffs  upon  our  shoulders,  so  that  no 
inconvenience  followed  the  escapade. 

Seeing  a  wide  field  of  ice  below  us,  and 
which  we  must  cross,  we  halted  upon  a 
broad-topped  rock  to  take  breath  and  to 
tighten  our  luggage  before  we  attacked 
it.  We  had  passed  the  frost-feather  line 
now,  and  the  rocks  protruded  more  na- 

54 


Mount  Washington  in  Winter 

kedly  through  the  snow.  As  we  looked 
back,  there  was  a  noble  amphitheatre  with 
clean-swept  stage.  The  crags  and  spurs 
supplied  the  accessories ;  the  backgrounds 
and  screens  were  of  light  and  shade  most 
mysteriously  composed.  In  all  positions 
the  actors  stood,  some  in  simple  garb, 
others  with  costumes  laced  delicately  and 
embroidered  fantastically  by  icy  needles  in 
hands  more  deft  and  skilful 
than  ours.  It  was  a  gor- 
geous scene.  How 
many  storm  dra- 
mas had  been  en-  ^ 
acted  there  ! 
But  there 
was  a  diffi- 
culty be- 
hind us, 
and 
we 
must 
turn  and 
face  it.     It 

was  an  ugly  spot,  and  neutralized  the  plea- 
sure of  examining  the  surroundings  some- 
what. We  made  up  our  minds  to  glissade 
the  slope,  and  glissade  we  did.  Before  we 
began,  my  careful  companion  gave  me 
this  piece  of  advice:    "Keep  your  mind 

55 


Mount  Washington  Signal  Station. 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 

wholly  upon  your  feet  and  upon  your  staff. 
Press  down  upon  the  first  with  all  your 
might  and  main,  and  have  the  other  every 
instant  of  the  time  in  good  position  to 
press  it  down,  hard,  in  case  you  fall.  If 
you  slip,  turn  quickly  upon  your  face, 
sprawl  all  you  can,  to  make  yourself  as 
wide  as  you  can;  push  the  point  of  your 
staff  with  both  hands  hard  into  the  ice 
under  you ;  this  will  probably  stop  you. 
Under  no  circumstances  allow  yourself  to 
slide  on  your  back."  I  did  not  slip  until 
I  came  within  a  few  feet  of  the  foot  of 
the  slope. 

Instead  of  obeying  the  rules,  I  allowed 
my  mind  to  rest  upon  embracing  a  narrow 
rock  ahead  as  soon  as  I  came  to  it.  I  came 
to  it,  face  down,  sooner  than  I  calculated. 
The  heavens  scintillated  while  I  dreamed, 
and  when  I  came  to  my  wits  again  I  was 
lying  on  my  face  astride  the  narrow  rock 
for  which  I  had  aimed.  My  plan  had  suc- 
ceeded, but  the  ways  and  means  employed 
differed  somewhat  from  the  details  of  my 
drawings.  Glissading  is  an  upright  and 
manly  diversion  —  at  least  it  should  be  up- 
right—  but  success  does  not  always  crown 
the  first  attempts  at  it.  The  start  should 
be  made  with  the  alpenstock  held  firmly 
in  both  hands,  and  trailed  after  you  at  one 

56 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 

side.  Do  not  allow  the  head  to  change 
places  with  the  feet ;  resist  all  intimacy 
on  the  part  of  the  ice.  Have  no  collision 
with  it.  The  stars  belong  to  the  heavens, 
and  should  only  be  seen  with  the  eyes  cast 
upward.  Do  not  sit  down  to  work,  nor 
"  take  a  header  "  willingly.  Press  the  steel 
point  of  your  staff  vigorously  into  the  ice, 
if  you  falter,  and  secure  a  soft  place  for 
recuperation  before  you  fall. 

Perhaps  if  I  had  not  been  thus  brought 
to  a  stand-still  we  should  never  have  ob- 
tained the  sublime  views  we  had  over  the 
bristling  trees  across  the  country  and  down 
into  "  the  lower  regions,"  as  the  observers 
say.  Turning  our  eyes  to  the  summit  we 
saw  veils  of  thin  clouds  winding  around 
the  mountain  in  folds  which  excited  our 
aesthetic  fervor.  Then  they  thickened  into 
long  furrowed  lines,  dark  and  threatening, 
and  these  began  to  roll  and  toss  about. 
"  The  whispering  grove  betrays  the  gath- 
ering elemental  strife,"  the  book  of 
"Weather  Proverbs"  used  by  the  Signal 
Service  says.  The  truth  of  this  was  veri- 
fied to  us  now,  because,  as  if  in  sympathy 
with  the  disturbance  gathering  about  the 
summit,  the  groves  a  half-mile  below  us 
began  "  whispering  "  ominously.  We  knew 
what  it  meant.     The  sky  was  yet  clear, 

57 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 

but  the  wind  began  to  blow  furiously  from 
the  west-southwest.  It  had  been  snowing 
from  there  down  to  the  base  for  two  or 
three  days,  and  we  no  sooner  left  the  ice- 
slopes  than  we  had  to  meet  the  deep  drifts. 
The  great  trestles  of  the  railway  were 
snowed  full,  and  we  dared  not  try  descend- 
ing on  them.  For  descending  they  are 
always  dangerous.  We  had  to  flounder 
through  the  deep  snow  the  best  we  could. 
We  could  not  make  our  way  to  the  little 
tool-house  where  our  snow-shoes  had  been 
left.  Up  to  the  waist,  then,  we  plunged. 
Our  progress  was  very  slow.  It  grew  sud- 
denly much  colder,  though  it  was  below 
zero  when  we  started.  The  wind  increased 
rapidly,  and  came  in  thundering  gusts. 
From  the  rising  snow-columns  we  could 
see  the  gusts  coming.  Before  they  reached 
us  we  locked  arm  in  arm,  turned  our  backs, 
bent  forward,  and  allowed  them  to  sail  over 
us.  Gradually  our  mustaches  froze  over 
our  mouths,  and  our  eyes  were  sealed  so 
we  could  not  see.  Frequent  halts  were 
made  to  thaw  in  some  daylight,  and  secure 
breath.  Sometimes  a  treacherous  drift  led 
us  to  an  icy  bottom,  when  we  slipped,  and 
became  almost  buried  in  the  snow. 

The  contest  for  position  in  this  world 
was  reins-trying,  but  we  thoroughly  en- 

58 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 


joyed  it ;  and  more  tears  and  frozen  eyes 
were  caused  by  our  laughter  than  by  the 
snapping  irascible  wind  and  cold.  Once 
in  a  while,  when  I  squeezed  the  arm  of 
my  companion,  with  whom  there  was  no 
fear  necessary,  he  would  reach  his  spare 
mittened  hand  to  his  mouth,  thaw  out  his 
voice,  and  say,  "Do  not  be  afraid,  I  am 
right  here  by  your  side." 


Frost  FeatJiers  under  the  Railway   Trestle. 

It  is  always  safer  to  go  around  a  moun- 
tain drift  than  to  go  over  it.  Only  long 
experience  enables  one  to  understand  when 
it  is  safe  to  attack  drifted  snow.  It  is  at 
times  very  treacherous.  It  may  slip  while 
you  are  pushing  your  way  over  it,  and,  ava- 

59 


Mount   Washington  in   Winter 


lanche-like,  rush  down  some  steep  incline 
with  you ;  or,  it  may  have  become  sepa- 
rated from  the  rocks  which  it  covers,  by 
the  melted  snow  running  underneath  on 
warm  days,  when  it  is  liable  to  crush  in 
with  you  and  overwhelm  you.  It  is  a  good 
plan  to  test  it  with  the  alpenstock  before 
risking  life  upon  it.  With  my  experienced 
friend  I  never  felt  that  there  was  any  dan- 
ger of  going  into  a  pit  unless  he  went  too. 
His  strong  arm  has  rescued  me  from  dan- 
ger many  a  time,  and  as  frequently  has 
he  carried  me  over  the  rough  places  on  his 
shoulders.  There  is  a  great  contrast  in 
our  make-up.  He,  broad  and  strong  and 
muscular  as  an  ox  —  I,  tall  and  slender, 
light-weight  and  wiry.  Both  had  attained 
a  quick  and  springy  step,  and  a  mutual 
trust  had  sprung  up  between  us  which 
made  it  out  of  the  question  for  one  to 
oppose  himself  to  the  other  in  time  of 
peril. 

At  last  we  reached  the  woods,  and 
hugged  as  closely  to  the  railroad  as  we 
could  ;  for  now  and  then  the  wind  had 
cleared  a  sort  of  "  path."  But  the  fre- 
quent pitfalls  twisted  our  legs  and  bruised 
our  feet,  so  that  as  soon  as  possible  we 
turned  to  the  right,  and  made  our  way 
down  into  the  sled-road,  then  in  use  by  the 

60 


A  fount   Washington  in   Winter 


wood-choppers.  One  time  I  took  a  run 
down  a  slope  which  seemed  to  have  a  crust 
upon  it,  but  presently  I  broke  through 
and  fell  forward.  As  I  yielded  to  cir- 
cumstances, I  intuitively  put  out  my  hands. 
They  went  into  the  snow  up  to  my  shoul- 
ders, and  there  I  had  to  remain,  face  down, 
"all-fours  "  fastened  in  a  drift  more  than  a 
dozen  feet  deep,  until  Mr.  Kilburn  came 
to  my  release.  Soon  after  we  heard  the 
ringing  of  the  woodsmen's  axes  ;  and  in 
twenty  minutes  more  we  were  at  the  base, 
safe  and  sound.  It  was  like  a  spring  day 
there.  The  little  river,  cajoled  by  the 
benign  warmth  of  the  sun,  had  burst  its 
bonds,  and  piled  the  "anchor-ice"  several 
feet  high  on  either  side.  Countless  rivu- 
lets of  melting  snow  were  pouring  into  it. 
The  commotion  was  almost  equal  to  that 
at  the  mouth  of  an  Alpine  glacier.  It  was 
like  the  closing  of  some  magnificent  scenic 
opera.  The  soft,  sweet  music  caused  by 
the  explosion  of  the  bubbles  bewitched  the 
air.  Each  swollen,  sparkling  stream  came 
along  charged  with  individual  ring  and 
resonance  —  each  one  came  cheerily  to 
contribute  its  melody  to  the  orchestral  tu- 
mult farther  on. 


61 


SOME    EPISODES 
OF    MOUNTAINEERING, 

BY    A 

CASUAL     AMATEUR 


By  Edwin  Lord  Weeks 


The  Peak  of  the  Zinal-Rothhom  from  the  Homli* 

"  Think  of  the  people  who  are  '  presenting  their  compliments,' 
and  '  requesting  the  honor,'  and  '  much  regretting,'  of  those  that 
are  pinioned  at  dinner-tables,  or  stuck  up  in  ball-rooms,  or  cruelly 
planted  in  pews  —  ay  think  of  these,  and  so  remembering  how 
many  poor  devils  are  living  in  a  state  of  utter  respectability,  you 
will  glory  the  more  in  your  own  delightful  escape."  —  Eothen. 

^^^P^EFORE   venturing   to   touch 
upon    a    theme  which    has 


already  been  treated  by  able 
pens,  and  to  add  a  few  per- 
sonal impressions,  it  may  be 
as  well  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that 
much  of  what  has  been  written  hitherto 
is  addressed  to  those  technically  familiar 
with  the  subject,  rather  than  to  the  general 
public.  It  is  only  fair  to  admit  that  pop- 
ular opinion  is  divided  as  to  the  attractions 

*  The  illustrations  of  this  article  are  all  drawn  by  the  Author, 

65 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

of  one  of  the  grandest  of  open-air  sports, 
which  in  sustained  interest  and  variety  of 
incident  is  second  to  no  other.  There  are 
hopeless  but  well-meaning  sceptics,  who 
will  ask  one:  Why  take  the  trouble  to 
climb  a  peak  in  order  to  see  a  view  which 
can  only  be  enjoyed  for  a  few  minutes,  if 
at  all,  by  reason  of  cold  or  fatigue  ?  and  it  is 
not  easy  to  convince  them,  since  seemingly 
unnecessary  physical  exertion  does  not  en- 
ter into  their  ideas  of  pleasure,  that  the 
contemplation  of  nature,  however  impres- 
sive it  may  be,  is  not  the  sole  object  and 
end  of  the  climber  ;  and  that  the  interest, 
the  charm  of  the  thing,  as  in  art,  lies  not 
so  much  in  the  subject  as  in  the  way  it  is 
done,  in  the  hundred  incidents  of  the  route, 
and,  above  all,  in  the  joy  of  life  and  the 
new  vigor  born  of  exertion  in  the  bracing 
air  of  high  altitudes,  which  are  the  reward 
of  a  successful  season. 

September,  1893. 


The  statements  of  Baedeker,  as  to  the, 
relative  difficulty  of  certain  peaks,  may,  up- 
on the  whole,  be  accepted  by  amateurs  with 
confidence.  In  the  editions  of  "  Baedeker's 
Switzerland/'  a  few  years  ago,  there  was  a 
list  of  the  principal  summits  about  Zer- 

66 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

matt ;  and  among  them  a  group  consisting 
of  the  "  Ober-Gabelhorn,"  "  Zinal-Roth- 
horn,"  "  Weisshorn,"  "  Dent  Blanche," 
and  "Dent  d'Herens "  was  prefaced  by 
the  lines,  "  very  difficult "  (for  thorough 
experts  only  with  first-class  guides),  and 
not  "  altogether  free  from  danger."  In 
the  most  recent  edition  this  last  clause  does 
not  appear,  from  which  circumstance  it 
might  be  inferred  that  with  the  progress 
made  by  the  Zermatt  guides  in  the  science 
of  climbing,  and  with  their  ever-increasing 
experience  and  topographical  knowledge 
of  these  peaks,  the  actual  danger  has  been 
sensibly  diminished. 

But  the  amateur  who  has  already  had 
some  experience,  and  is  confident  (but  not 
too  confident)  of  his  own  powers,  and  is 
moreover  in  good  condition,  need  not  al- 
low himself  to  be  daunted  by  Baedeker's 
classification.  Among  the  minor  peaks, 
(minor,  not  in  regard  to  size  or  interest, 
but  in  difficulty  only)  the  Rimpfischhorn 
and  the  Gran  Paradiso  are  ranked  as  dif- 
ficult. Both  of  these  peaks  exceed  the 
Jungfrau  in  height ;  and  although  care  and 
attention  are  necessary  at  certain  points, 
there  is  not  the  slightest  difficulty  about 
either  of  them.  A  noted  Alpinist  records 
that  he  has  ascended   the  Gran   Paradiso 

67 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 


Peter  Taiigwalder,  No.  2. 


alone  and  without  guides.  There  is  one 
point,  however,  where  most  men  would  feel 
safer  with  a  rope,  and  at  least  one  guide.  A 
practised  expert  whom  I  met  on  the  way 
down  affirmed  that  it  was  hardly  worth 
doing,  while  another,  equally  experienced, 
had  made  the  ascent  twice.  As  for  the 
Rimpfischhorn,  it  shows,  on  a  small  scale, 


68 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

examples  of  the  various  difficulties  common 
to  all  rock  peaks,  and  with  but  one  guide, 
"  strict  attention  to  business  "  is  necessary. 
Although  one  of  the  noted- Zermatt  guides 
who  accompanied  the  writer  on  a  rather 
more  trying  expedition,  declared  it  to  be 
simply  "une  jolie  promenade,"  others  con- 
sider it  one  of  the  very  best  peaks  for  pre- 
liminary practice,  before  undertaking  more 
hazardous  ascents.  Of  those  classified  as 
"  very  difficult,"  I  can  speak  from  person- 
al experience  of  only  two,  others  having 
proved  to  be  impossible  at  the  particular 
moment  when  they  were  attempted  ;  and 
although  sufficiently  arduous,  these  two  do 
not  offer  any  insurmountable  difficulty,  so 
long  as  one  is  not  subject  to  vertigo,  that 
nightmare  of  all  beginners,  and  has  suffi- 
cient imitative  faculty  to  follow  the  move- 
ments of  the  guide  in  front.  It  is  a  very 
important  point  at  the  outset  to  save  one's 
strength  ;  for  even  should  he  have  a  super- 
fluity of  endurance,  he  had  better  store  it 
up  for  emergencies.  Any  one  who  takes 
notice  of  the  gait  of  the  guides  when  start- 
ing at  night  by  lantern  light,  will  observe 
that  they  walk  with  a  long,  swinging, 
rhythmic  step  which  seems  quite  mechan- 
ical, as  they  slowly  lift  one  foot  or  swing 
it  over  a  rock,  with  scarcely  any  expendi- 

69 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

ture  of  force,  particularly  in  mounting  the 
tedious  moraines  where  the  bowlders  are 
often  white  with  frost.  All  the  energy 
thus  economized  comes  into  play  when 
one  reaches  the  rocks,  where  a  man  wants 
a  clear  head  as  well,  and  to  know  just 
where  to  rest  his  weight  to  take  advantage 
of  every  projection,  point,  and  crevice. 

For  amateurs  whose  object  is  not  so 
much  to  make  a  record  as  to  obtain  the 
greatest  amount  of  sport  with  a  moderate 
expenditure,  the  high  glacier  passes  afford 
nearly  as  much  interest  as  many  of  the 
well-known  peaks  where  the  tariff  for 
guides  is  much  higher ;  some  of  these 
passes  cross  ridges  or  "  saddles "  from 
twelve  to  fourteen  thousand  feet  above 
the  sea,  and  have  the  additional  attrac- 
tion that  every  step  of  the  way  is  new, 
as  one  descends  into  another  valley  at 
night,  where  the  French  or  Italian  inn 
replaces  the  Club  hut  which  he  left  at 
daybreak.  And  there  are  some  which  are 
really  more  dangerous  than  the  majority 
of  peaks ;  as,  for  instance,  the  "  Altes 
Weissthor,"  from  Zermatt  to  Macugnaga. 
I  have  never  crossed  this  pass,  but  once 
had  a  good  view  of  it  when  descending 
the  New  Weissthor,  a  short  distance  away. 
While  we  were  breakfasting  on  the  brink 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 


Z  inal-Rothhorn  —  Sunset. 


of  the  cliffs  an  ava- 
lanche fell  directly  on  the 
route,  which  is  seldom  free 
from  falling  stones;  and  yet  the 
tariff  is  only  forty  or  forty-five 
francs  for  a  guide,  while  eighty  is  de- 
manded for  the  Jungfrau  !  And  there  is 
also  the  Col  du  Lion  on  the  Matterhorn, 
which  offers  similar  inducements.      Then 


71 


Sonic  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

there  is  at  Randa  the  Domjoch  or  the 
Mischabeljoch,  neither  of  which  is  much 
inferior  in  height  to  the  great  peaks  on 
either  side,  and  both  lead  down  to  Saas- 
Fee  by  descents  of  uncommon  steepness. 

It  has  been  a  fashion,  particularly  of  late 
years,  for  experienced  Alpinists  to  make 
difficult  or  little-known  ascents  unattended 
by  guides ;  and  while  experience  and  self- 
confidence  may  be  better  acquired  in  this 
way,  they  are  often  dearly  bought.  Acci- 
dents have  happened  to  the  most  famous 
experts  while  prospecting  alone;  and  it  will 
be  found  that  by  far  the  greater  number  of 
Alpine  catastrophes  have  been  due  to  care- 
lessness, and  to  the  rashness  of  novices  in 
venturing  too  far  without  guides.  Unless 
one  is  extremely  quick  and  clever,  he  is 
very  likely,  when  he  finds  himself  in  a 
perplexing  situation,  to  under-estimate  the 
difficulty  of  certain  passages,  where  danger 
is  not  apparent,  but  which  a  guide  would 
never  attempt ;  such,  for  instance,  are  the 
steep  and  sunburned  grass  slopes  high  on  a 
mountain-side,  which  often  terminate  in 
cliffs  or  vertical  ledges  above  a  glacier.  As 
the  tufts  of  dry  grass  usually  point  down- 
ward, they  afford  little  hold  to  the  nails  in- 
one's  boots,  and  are  often  as  slippery  as 
glass.      There  are  also  certain  places  which 

72 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

look  appalling  to  a  beginner,  but  which 
turn  out  to  be  perfectly  easy  when  once 
the  guide  in  front  has  got  safely  over 
them.  Most  treacherous  of  all  to  the 
solitary  climber  are  the  steep  glissades  * 
down  couloirs  of  snow  or  ice  ;  and  a  little 
accident  which  happened  to  a  friend  of 
the  writer,  although  he  fortunately  escaped 
serious  damage,  had  the  effect  of  making 
him  forever  after  over-cautious  in  regard 
to  this  extremely  rapid  but  uncertain  mode 
of  progression.  While  waiting  at  Pra- 
Raye,  at  the  head  of  the  desolate  Valpel- 
line  valley,  for  settled  weather  in  order  to 
cross  the  "col"  to  Zermatt,  he  left  his 
guides  at  the  chalet,  and  ventured  on  a 
little  private  exploring  expedition  up  the 
unfrequented  Glacier  de  Bella  Cia,  near 
the  Chateau  des  Dames.  He  had  taken 
an  alpenstock  belonging  to  his  porter,  one 
of  the  slender  tourist  sort,  branded  with 
names ;  and  as  he  turned  back  to  descend, 
he  concluded  to  pick  his  way  down  a  long 
slope  covered  with  loose  rocks  and  debris, 
which  seemed  a  more  direct  route  than  the 
break-neck  ledges  by  which  he  had  scram- 
bled   up.      The   slope   descended    steeply, 

*  The  sitting  glissade  is  perhaps  the  most  exhilarating  way 
of  getting  down  a  long  snow-slope,  such  as  the  one  on  the 
Dorn,  and  does  not  call  for  the  same  degree  of  acrobatic  skill  as 
the  standing  glissade. 

73 


Some  Episodes  cf  Mountaineering 


without  a  break  apparently;  but  as  he  got 
down,  the  valley  beneath  him  seemed  to 
retire  by  some  unaccountable  effect  of  aerial 
perspective,  which  made  him  suspect  the 
existence  of  a  precipice  invisible  from 
above.  Proceeding  cautiously  downward, 
he  found  himself  on  the  verge  of  a  long 
and  vertical  ledge,  and  keeping  on  along 
the  brink  he  finally  reached  a  steep  cou- 
loir or  narrow  chasm  filled  with  packed 
snow,  which  offered  a  short  cut  down  be- 
tween jagged  walls  of  rock.  As  the  incli- 
nation at  which  the  couloir  descended  did 
not  seem  dangerously  steep,  he  attempted 
a  standing  glissade,  using  his  stick  as  a  brake 
in  the  usual  manner.  It  became  steeper 
as  he  slid  down  ;  and  in  trying  to  check 
his  velocity  the  stick  snapped  in  two,  and 
he  shot  down  the  incline  feet  foremost 
with  the  speed  of  a  rocket.  Luckily  the 
chasm  made  a  turn  at  right  angles,  and 
he  was  landed  on  a  heap  of  stones,  with 
no  further  damage  than  the  loss  of  con- 
siderable epidermis,  and  the  annihilation 
of  his  trousers. 

To-day,  when  every  great  peak  has  been 
thoroughly  explored,  when  famous  climb- 
ers have  achieved  the  most  difficult  sum- 
mits alone,  or  at  least  without  professional 
guides,  but  few  remain  the  mere  ascent  of 

74 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 


A  Ladder  of  Ice  —  Zinal-Rothhorn. 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

which  confers  any  brevet  of  distinction  in 
this  field  of  athletics.  As  in  all  professions 
and  in  all  sports  which  boast  semi-profes- 
sional experts,  the  standard  has  been  raised. 
In  order  to  take  a  high  rank,  or  to  "  make 
a  record,"  the  aspirant  for  the  honors  of 
the  Alpine  Club  must  traverse  such  peaks 
as  the  Matterhorn,  and  descend  on  the  op- 
posite side,  or  cross  the  Dom  du  Mischa- 
bel,*  the  highest  peak  on  Swiss  soil,  which 
presents  little  difficulty  until  one  descends 
the  steep  rock  face  above  Saas.  There  are 
still  a  few  summits  left  which  are  admitted 
to  be  somewhat  "  tough,"  and  one  of  the 
most  successful  enthusiasts  in  the  matter  of 
rock  peaks  has  recently  given  his  verdict 
in  favor  of  Chamouny  as  a  happy  hunt- 
ing-ground ;  for  he  found  sufficient  inter- 
est in  some  of  the  slender  Aiguilles  which 
surround  Mont  Blanc  to  stimulate  his 
somewhat  jaded  appetite.  It  would,  how- 
ever, be  quite  incorrect  to  make  an  arbi- 
trary statement  that  any  particular  ascent 
is  easy  or  difficult.  With  bad  weather  any 
minor  peak  may  become  hazardous  at  once, 
or  when  a  fierce  gale  of  wind  whistles  and 


*  According  to  Baedeker's  figures  the  three  highest  summits 
of  the  Alps  are  Mont  Blanc,  15,366  feet,  Monte  Rosa,  15,217, 
and  the  Dom  du  Mischabel,  14,941.  The  first  belongs  to  France, 
the  second  is  on  the  boundary  between  Italy  and  Switzerland, 
while  the  third  alone  belongs  entirely  to  the  latter  country. 

76 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

howls  among  the  rocks  as  through  the 
rigging  of  a  ship,  and  they  are  crusted 
with  verglas  or  frozen  sleet ;  it  is  only 
just,  therefore,  to  say  that  the  expeditions 
referred  to  here  were  nearly  all  made  un- 
der favorable  circumstances. 


ii. 

While  detained  at  the  Eggishorn  hotel 
by  bad  weather,  in  1886,  I  picked  up  a 
copy  of  the  Times,  or  some  other  London 
daily,  and  found  an  editorial  relating  to  a 
recent  accident  on  the  Dom  du  Mischabel, 
and  it  also  contained  a  letter  or  statement 
in  regard  to  the  claim  put  forth  by  an 
Englishman  who  had  just  made  the  ascent, 
as  he  believed,  for  the  first  time;  this  pre- 
sumption was  contradicted  by  others,  who 
claimed  to  have  made  prior  ascents.  I  have 
since  seen  guides  who  thought  that  it  had 
been  done  as  early  as  1865.  In  those  re- 
mote days  the  Dom  was  invested  with 
imaginary  terrors,  and  a  certain  prestige, 
like  that  of  the  Matterhorn  before  Mr. 
Whymper  made  the  first  ascent,  although 
of  course  in  a  lesser  degree  ;  at  that  time 
there  was  no  cabin,  and  climbers  were 
obliged  to  pass  the  first  part  of  the  night 
under  the  cliffs  above  Randa. 

77 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

Now  that  the  Dom  has  a  Club  hut,  and 
the  route  is  well  known,  it  presents  no  dif- 
ficulty, although  rather  long  and  tedious, 
rising,  as  it  does,  more  than  ten  thousand 
feet  sheer  above  Randa.  The  day  which 
we  chose  for  the  trip  was  the  first  on 
which  it  would  have  been  feasible,  after 
a  long  period  of  bad  weather  with  much 
snow,  and  we  overtook  several  other  par- 
ties on  the  road.  The  great  rampart  of 
tawny  cliffs  above  the  valley,  which  forms 
the  pedestal  of  the  Dom,  rises  to  such  a 
height  that  one  can  see  nothing  of  the 
glaciers  and  peaks  above  them.  In  the 
centre,  and  at  the  bottom  of  this  amphi- 
theatre of  cliffs,  there  is  a  cavern,  prob- 
ably an  extension  or  widening  of  a  deep 
cleft  which  was  cut  through  by  the  torrent 
issuing  from  its  mouth,  arid  which  trickles 
across  the  broad  delta,  or  sloping  plain  of 
gravel  and  debris,  at  the  base.  When 
we  had  crossed  the  torrent  at  a  point 
far  below,  and  were  ascending  the  steep 
pastures  beyond,  toward  the  cliffs,  it  was 
our  good  fortune  to  behold  the  most 
magnificent  of  avalanches.  The  stream 
where  it  poured  out  from  the  cleft  began 
to  rumble  hoarsely,  raising  its  voice  to  a 
sullen  roar,  while  the  water  changed  to 
snow  and   ice,  ever  increasing  in   volume 

7* 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 


The  Ascent  of  the  Dom  —  the  start  at  3  a.m. 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 


until  the  whole  broad  slope  was  deeply 
covered  with  a  fast-moving  white  carpet, 
over  which  great  blocks  of  snow  and  ice 
chased  each  other,  leaping  into  the  air, 
and  breaking  as  they  fell  into  showers  of 
fragments  and  frozen  spray.  Seen  from 
below,  it  must  have  resembled  the  coming 
of  a  tidal  wave.  The  ascent  of  the  cliffs 
was  facilitated  by  two  or  three  long  lad- 
ders placed  against  their  most  vertical  por- 
tions ;  but  we  had  the  blazing  afternoon 
sun  of  August  on  our  backs,  and  were 
sufficiently  hot  and  thirsty  by  the  time 
we  reached  the  top,  and  could  look  across 
the  icy  desolation  of  the  Festi  Glacier  to 
the  vast  bulk  of  the  Mischabel  group  ris- 
ing beyond  it.  Some  English  Alpinists 
h?.d  already  installed  themselves  at  the 
new  Club  hut,  and  were  luxuriating  in 
iced  wine  punch,  which  had  been  pre- 
pared in  a  flexible  canvas  bucket ;  and  they 
held  it  out  to  us,  as  we  arrived,  hot  and 
breathless.  Certainly  nothing  ever  looked 
more  tempting  than  its  crimson  depths, 
with  the  lemons  and  blocks  of  ice  swim- 
ming about ;  and  even  the  strictest  Mussul- 
man might  well  have  been  pardoned  if  for 
once  he  forgot  his  creed,  and  looked  upon 
the  wine  when  it  was  red. 

The  cabin  had  a  sloping  platform  for 
81 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

sleeping  purposes,  extending  along  the 
wall  for  its  entire  length  on  the  side  op- 
posite the  door,  which  was  well  covered 
with  clean  straw  and  plentifully  provided 
with  blue  blankets,  each  marked  with  the 
C.  A.  of  the  Club  Alpine.  There  was  a 
large  stove  at  one  end  of  the  narrow  space 
left,  with  a  table  and  a  few  wooden  benches 
near  it ;  and  at  the  other  end  a  primitive 
stairway  led  to  the  loft,  which  was  sacred 
to  the  guides.  When  the  numerous  and 
cosmopolitan  company  had  tucked  them- 
selves away  in  the  straw  at  the  early  hour 
of  8  p.m.,  the  cabin  presented  a  droll  ap- 
pearance, with  its  long  row  of  heads,  vari- 
ously nightcapped,  each  emerging  from  its 
blue  blanket.  Although  at  such  an  eleva- 
tion  the  nights  are  usually  cold,  on  this 
particular  night  a  blanket  was  quite  un- 
necessary, and  the  fleas,  which  are  never 
absent  from  the  clean  straw  of  Switzer- 
land, were  uncommonly  active  ;  there  was 
also  a  man  who  snored,  and  two  or  three 
who  told  stories.  As  there  was  little  pros- 
pect of  sleep,  I  wandered  out  in  search  of 
a  cool  spring  which  bubbled  up  at  a  little 
distance  from  the  door,  and  which  could 
only  be  found  after  much  groping  and  stum- 
bling among  the  rocks.  There  was  no 
moon ;  and  while  the  ground  underfoot  was 

82 


Some  Episodes  of  Aforoitabieeritig 


almost  un- 
distinguish- 
able,   the  vivid 
starlight  made  all 
the  encircling  peaks 
clearly    visible.      Just 
across  the  deep  gulf  of 
Randa,  which  had  the 
blackness   of   a    pall, 
arose  the  colossal  bulk 
of  the  Weisshorn  ;  and 
the  white  chaos  of  se- 
racs  and  glaciers  lead- 
ing up  to  it  seemed  to  diffuse  an  almost 

83 


The  Ober-Gabeihorn. 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

phosphorescent  glimmer,  while  from  be- 
hind the  black  pyramid  of  the  Matter- 
horn  the  Milky  Way  rose  straight  toward 
the  zenith,  like  a  flaming  sword.  The 
dead  silence  would  have  been  oppressive, 
had  it  not  been  broken  now  and  then  by 
the  muffled  roar  of  a  torrent  somewhere 
down  below,  which  came  at  intervals  on 
some  stray  current  of  air,  like  the  hollow 
rumble  of  a  distant  train.  In  the  dry 
night  wind  at  this  elevation,  there  is  a 
subtle  quality  which  makes  one  feel  so 
keenly  alive,  that  only  a  modicum  of  sleep 
is  necessary  ;  and  one  is  loath  to  exchange 
its  freshness  for  the  close,  stove-heated  air 
of  a  cabane.  And  if  one  remembers  for 
a  moment  the  Turkish  proverb  which, 
as  everyone  knows,  runs  thus,  "A  man  is 
better  lying  down  than  standing,  sleeping 
than  lying  down,  dead  than  sleeping,"  it 
is  only  with  the  impatience  of  the  scoffer 
at  a  philosophy  with  which  he  cannot 
feel  in  touch.  At  one  o'clock,  after  we 
had  all  dozed  a  little,  there  was  a  sound 
of  heavy  boots  coming  carefully  down 
the  stair ;  and  presently  the  guides  were 
all  at  work  heating  bouillon,  or  making 
coffee  over  the  stove.  The  first  to  start 
was  a  German  with  two  guides,  and  we 
followed  shortly  after  ;    by  the   time  we 

84 


So/ne  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 


had  picked  our  way  by  the  light  of  the 
lantern  over  the  bowlders  of  the  moraine, 
and  along  the  crevasses  of  the  glacier,  we 
sighted  his  lantern,  which  shone  like  a 
star,  high  up  in  a  couloir  of  snow  leading 
to  the  arete.  Here  we  overtook  the  Ger- 
man, and  after  a  consultation  our  guides 
thought  it  advisable  that  we  should  all  be 
roped  together.  We  had  not  proceeded 
far  along  the  wedge-like  snow  arete,  which 
leads,  if  I  remember  rightly,  in  an  almost 
unbroken  line  to  the  summit,  when  we 
came  to  the  only  break  in  its  continuity, 
a  huge  and  jutting  promontory  of  rocks, 
which  seemed  to  cut  the  arete  quite  in 
two,  and  to  bar  our  farther  progress.  The 
German  team  in  front,  like  ants  when  in- 
terrupted in  their  travels  by  any  obstacle, 
kept  straight  on,  and  scaled  the  cliff,  but, 
when  they  reached  the  summit,  seemed 
unable  to  get  down  on  the  other  side. 
My  guides,  seeing  their  predicament,  un- 
harnessed themselves ;  and  we  started  round 
the  ledge  on  the  side,  where  it  rises  above 
the  Festi  glacier.  One  by  one  we  worked 
along  the  wall  until  we  came  to  the  cor- 
ner. The  first  guide  had  already  turned 
it ;  and,  having  need  of  both  hands,  I  was 
beginning  to  find  my  piollet  somewhat 
embarrassing,  when  we  were  nearly  toma- 

85 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

hawked  by  the  piollet  of  one  of  the  men 
over  our  heads,  which  he  had  dropped  in 
his  struggle  to  get  down.  As  we  ducked 
instinctively,  another  piollet  whizzed  past 
like  an  arrow,  and  buried  itself  in  the  ice 
of  the  glacier  far  below.  It  must  have 
taken  them  nearly  an  hour  to  recover  their 
lost  property ;  and,  after  regaining  the 
snow  arete,  we  continued  serenely  on  until 
we  neared  the  apex  of  the  Dom,  where  we 
were  the  first  to  arrive,  between  seven  and 
eight  a.m.  As  we  neared  the  summit, 
ledges  of  rock  arose  through  the  crusted 
snow  on  the  Zermatt  side ;  and  the  ridge, 
ever  steeper  as  we  toiled  breathlessly  up- 
ward, rose  before  us  like  the  razor  edge 
which  all  good  Mussulmans  must  traverse 
if  they  would  reach  Paradise.  But  from 
the  top  of  the  Dom  it  was  the  majestic 
triple  peak  of  the  "Gran  Paradiso"  which 
we  saw  rising  over  the  shoulder  of  the 
Matterhorn,  but  far  away  on  the  Italian 
side.  It  is  said  that  from  this  height  the 
Mediterranean  is  often  visible ;  but  al- 
though the  sky  overhead  was  of  the  deep- 
est and  most  cloudless  blue,  the  nearer 
snows  dazzling,  and  the  long  white  chain 
of  the  Oberland  toned  by  a  golden  haze, 
the  plains  of  Italy  beyond  the  lakes  faded 
away  into  a  vaporous  horizon  on  the  south. 

86 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering; 

As  we  turned  to  go  down,  we  met  the 
others  coming  up  along  the  ridge;  but  our 
guides,  for  some  good  reason  —  probably 
the  steepness  of  the  crusted  snow  slope  — 
preferred  to  take  a  different  route,  and,  turn- 
ing to  the  right,  we  sat  down  in  the  snow, 
and  slid  or  glis- 
saded down  what 
would  make  the 
finest  and  dizzi- 
est of  toboggan 
slides,  to  the  val- 
ley at  the  foot  of 
the  Taschhorn. 

Although  the 
Dom  is  undoubt- 
edly one  of  the 
finest  of  the  great 
snow  peaks,  the 
ascent  of  it  does 
not  present  the 
varied  interest  of 
many  rock  summits  far  inferior  in  height ; 
and  the  only  amusing  bit  of  rock-work 
which  I  remember,  is  the  passage  of  the 
ledge  or  cliff  near  the  beginning  of  the  arete. 


Peter  Taugzvalder,  No. 


*  The  numbers  i  (above)  and  2  (p.  68)  are  given,  not  in 
order  to  discriminate  in  favor  of  one  or  the  other,  but  are  a  means 
of  identifying  them,  as  they  are  namesakes.  Peter  Taugwalder, 
No.  1,  is  one  of  the  survivors  of  the  famous  Matterhorn  disaster 
in  1865,  when  he  accompanied  his  father  as  porter. 

87 


Some  Episodes  oj  Mountaineering 


III. 

The  Val  d'Aosta,  as  one  leaves  Courma- 
yeur  and  Mont  Blanc  behind,  opens  below 
like  the  portal  of  a  new  world,  and  is  a 
charming  interlude  between  the  arctic 
world  which  we  have  just  left  and  that 
which  we  are  to  encounter  on  the  other 
side  of  its  high  mountain  wall.  The 
green  vineyards  of  Italy  border  the  dusty 
highway,  and  each  jutting  promontory  of 
rock  is  crowned  with  a  castle  or  watch- 
tower.  Near  Villeneuve,  on  the  south,  is 
the  narrow  entrance  of  the  gorge  which 
leads  upward  into  the  Val  Savaranche, 
which  is  one  point  of  departure  for  the 
Gran  Paradiso  region.  When  entering 
this  valley  for  the  first  time,  I  had  come 
up  from  Turin  and  Cuorgne,  by  the  "  Col 
de  la  Croix  de  Nivollet,"  and  by  way  of 
Ceresole  Reale,  entering  the  Val  Sava- 
ranche at  Villeneuve.  I  reached  the  little 
hamlet  of  Pont,  a  scattered  group  of 
weather-beaten  chalets  at  the  head  of  the 
ravine,  late  in  the  afternoon.  An  old  garde- 
c/iasse,  wearing  the  badge  of  the  King  of 
Italy  on  his  hat,  met  me  on  the  road,  and 
proffered  his  services  as  guide,  as  he  had  a 
key  of  the  Cabane  on  the  Paradiso.     We 

88 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

put  up  at  a  cantine,  the  nearest  approach 
to  a  hotel  in  the  village,  which  was  kept 
by  a  most  obliging  woman,  surrounded 
by  five  or  six  tow-headed  children,  who 
sprawled  over  each  other  in  front  of  the 
great  open  fireplace.  For  other  furniture 
the  room  had  a  pine  table  with  a  bench 
on  each  side,  a  spinning-wheel,  and  two 
or  three  closets  in  the  wall,  where  our 
hostess  kept  her  crockery  and  supplies  of 
chocolate,  sardines,  and  other  luxuries  for 
improvident  pedestrians.  Her  cuisine, 
naturally  limited  in  this  bleak  region,  in- 
cluded soup,  eggs,  an-d  chickens,  of  which 
a  goodly  number  strutted  in  front  of  the 
door,  or  foraged  on  the  kitchen  floor,  so 
that  without  leaving  her  fireplace  she  could 
pounce  on  the  chosen  victim  at  the  proper 
moment.  But  this  time  we  were  doomed 
to  disappointment ;  the  weather  changed 
for  the  worse,  and,  after  passing  a  night 
in  the  loft  overhead,  where,  although  the 
beds  were  sufficiently  immaculate,  there 
was  hardly  room  to  stand  upright,  we  were 
obliged  reluctantly  to  abandon  the  trip  ;  a 
cold  storm  had  set  in  during  the  night, 
and  the  heights  around  us  were  hidden  by 
the  driving  rain.  My  second  attempt,  al- 
though it  did  not  begin  as  auspiciously, 
ended   in    the   most    satisfactory    manner. 

89 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

The  old  garde-chasse,  when  I  reached  his 
house  lower  down  in  the  valley,  was  away 
hunting  steinbock*  with  the  King ;  and  I 
could  find  no  one  to  take  his  place  in  the 
village  of  Pont,  when  I  arrived  there  for 
the  second  time.  There  was  still  an  hour 
for  a  little  prospecting  before  dark ;  and 
hoping  to  get  a  view  of  trie  hitherto  elu- 
sive Gran  Paradiso,  I  kept  on  to  the  end 
of  the  valley,  and  turned  up  the  bridle- 
path which  leads  to  the  cabane.  But  the 
great  summit  is  not  visible,  either  from 
this  valley  or  from  Cogne,  being  environed 
by  a  circle  of  lesser  satellites  which  are  yet 
high  enough  to  cut  off  the  view  entirely ; 
and  it  is  only  from  the  heights  around 
Zermatt  that  one  can  get  a  satisfactory 
impression  of  the  highest  peak  in  Italy. 

The  cabane,  having  been  designed  as  a 
royal  shooting-box,  is  superior  in  its  equip- 
ments to  any  Club  hut  with  which  I  am 
familiar,  and  is  approached  by  a  well-kept 
bridle-path,  which  winds  upward  in  long 
zigzags.  When  turning  to  come  down,  I 
saw  far  below,  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs,  a 
party  of  three,  who  were  on  their  way  up, 
carrying  a  coil  of  rope  and  various  other 

*  The  adjacent  hills,  as  well  as  those  around  Cogne,  are  still 
the  haunt  of  the  steinbock,  or  ibex,  which  are  reserved  for  the 
exclusive  sport  of  royalty,  although  the  chamois  are  free  to  all  at 
the  proper  season. 

90 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 


A   Long  Step  —  on  the  Gran  Paradiso 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

impedimenta.  They  proved  to  be  two 
young  Italian  engineers,  accompanied  by 
a  guide  whom  they  had  engaged  for  the 
season ;  and  with  the  amiability  character- 
istic of  Italian  Alpinists,  they  invited  me 
to  make  one  of  their  party,  only  stipulat- 
ing that  I  should  bring  up  provisions  and 
a  few  extra  metres  of  rope.  They  were 
to  sleep  at  the  cabane,  and  start  at  five  in 
the  morning.  It  was  then  about  six  p.m.; 
and  I  was  not  long  in  getting  down  to  the 
cantine,  swallowing  a  hastily  cooked  din- 
ner, and  securing  a  supply  of  provisions. 
Our  hostess  found  the  rope,  which  was 
crammed  into  a  sack  with  the  rations ;  and 
her  husband,  carrying  a  lantern,  officiated 
as  porter.  The  Italians  were  already  asleep 
when  we  reached  our  quarters,  which  were 
truly  palatial  for  a  "hut"  at  this  elevation; 
the  room  which  they  occupied  opened  into 
a  large  dining-room  furnished  with  a  long 
table  and  chairs,  and  beyond  this  we  found 
a  kitchen,  a  room  for  guides,  and  an- 
other sleeping-room  provided  with  several 
bunks  and  mattresses.  A  single  figure  was 
stretched  out  in  one  of  the  bunks,  and  the 
room  was  heated  by  a  drum  connected 
with  a  stove  in  the  adjoining  kitchen.  I 
was  rather  too  hasty,  however,  in  congrat- 
ulating myself  on  such  unwonted  luxury; 

92 


Some  Episodes  of  Afountaineering 

for  the  temperature  of  the  room,  uncom- 
fortably hot  when  I  turned  in,  became 
chill  and  frosty  when  the  fire  had  gone 
out,  and  it  was  not  until  my  room-mate 
shook  himself  out  of  bed  at  the  call  of 
his  guides,  that  I  discovered  that  there 
were  blankets,  and  that  he  had  appropri- 
ated all  of  them,  my  share  as  well  as  his 
own.  Taking  advantage  of  the  unusually 
complete  cooking  facilities,  and  the  gen- 
erous supply  of  crockery  provided  by  roy- 
alty for  hungry  Alpinists,  we  dallied  late 
over  a  rather  elaborate  breakfast;  and  it 
was  broad  daylight  when  we  struck  into 
the  path,  and  began  to  clamber  over  the 
frost-covered  bowlders  which  lead  up  to 
the  snow-fields.  In  speaking  of  a  path 
here  and  elsewhere,  I  refer  always  to  the 
distinct  foot-path,  which,  in  the  case  of 
mountains  frequently  ascended,  leads  from 
the  starting-point,  Club  hut  or  inn,  up  the 
moraines  to  the  glacier.  Beyond  this  point 
there  may  exist,  during  a  long  season  of 
fine  weather,  traces  in  the  snow  left  by  the 
last  party,  which,  of  course,  are  obliterated 
by  the  first  storm.  The  only  other  land- 
marks or  indications  of  human  life  above 
the  rudimentary  path  up  the  moraine 
and  the  occasional  tracks  in  the  snow 
are    the    deposits    of   broken    bottles    and 

93 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

empty  tin  cans  at  points  where  the  guides 
are  in  the  habit  of  stopping.  In  cases 
where  the  ascent  is  not  often  made,  these 
indications  are  not  to  be  depended  on. 
As  there  was  only  one  guide  and  no  porter 
in  this  party  of  four,  the  provisions  and 
other  baggage  were  divided,  and  each  man 
carried  his  share  of  the  weight ;  mine,  in 
addition  to  my  own  personal  belongings, 
was  a  bulky  wooden  wine-flask,  of  a  make 
only  found  in  this  part  of  Italy,  and  large 
enough  to  supply  the  entire  party.  The 
weight  was  of  little  consequence;  but  its 
size  and  bulk  were  rather  in  the  way  when 
we  got  to  the  rocks,  and  more  than  once 
I  was  nearly  carromed  off  a  cliff  by  its  ro- 
tundity. While  we  travelled  along  the 
snow-ridge,  and  the  first  ice-slope  where 
steps  were  cut,  our  guide  did  not  think  it 
worth  while  to  put  on  the  rope;  although 
we  struggled  along  one  after  another,  and 
a  decidedly  rapid  toboggan  slide  led  down 
to  the  edge  of  a  cliff  overhanging  a  glacier 
which  we  could  not  see.  An  icy  wind 
blew  down  the  slope,  and  the  slowness  of 
our  progress  upward  did  not  tend  to  in- 
crease our  somewhat  sluggish  circulation. 
The  first  striking  feature  of  the  route  was 
a  long  Bergschrund,  or  horizontal  chasm  in 
the  ice,  fringed  with  pendent  icicles,  and 

94 


Some  1-lpisodes  of  Moutitaineering 


of  varying  width,  which  must  first  be 
crossed  before  we  could  mount  the  steep, 
snow-covered  dome  on  the  other  side, 
which  led  to  the  ridge  of  rocks  at  the 
summit ;  this  was  the  most  toilsome  part 
of  the  ascent,  as  the  beginning  of  the  slope 
directly  at  the  edge  of  the  crevasse  had  the 
bulging  outward  curve  of  a  Persian  dome. 
The  ice  was  covered  to  the  depth  of  a  foot 
or  more  with  loose  snow,  which  had  to  be 
scraped  away  before  the  steps  could  be  cut. 
As  it  happened,  none  of  us  were  properly 
equipped  for  the  occasion;  the  guide  had 
the  only  piollet,  the  rest  of  us  having  alpen- 
stocks, and  my  one  pair  of  woollen  gloves 
did  duty  for  three,  each  taking  his  turn.  In 
consequence  of  our  improvidence,  one  of 
the  party  had  the  hand  in  which  he  held 
his  staff  so  shrivelled  by  the  cold  wind  that 
for  months  afterward  it  had  a  shrunken 
look,  although  not  actually  frost-bitten, 
while  the  fairest  of  the  two  Italians  suffered 
from  sunburn  to  such  a  degree  that  his  face 
was  puffed  out  with  water-blisters;  he  had 
rubbed  it  with  butter  before  starting,  but 
far  from  impeding  the  action  of  the  sun- 
glare,  it  seemed  rather  to  increase  its  effect, 
so  that  he  became  a  sorry  spectacle  on  the 
following  day.  As  for  the  guide  and  my- 
self,   our   weather-beaten    hides   were   too 

95 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

well  tanned  to  suffer  much  from  a  little 
additional  exposure.  Subsequent  experi- 
ence has  taught  me  that  one  can  never 
consider  himself  exempt  from  sunburn ; 
and  in  going  over  tracts  of  newly-fallen 
snow,  and  when  the  sun  shines  through 
thin  vapor,  what  is  called  a  "white  mist," 
very  few  escape  entirely. 

Having  reached  at  last  the  top  of  the 
snow-dome,  we  found  ourselves  near  the 
rocky  ridge  backbone  which  crops  out 
through  the  snow  at  the  summit  of  the 
Gran  Paradiso ;  it  had  a  strikingly  artifi- 
cial appearance,  and  might  be  likened  to 
an  old  Roman  wall,  while  the  three  tall 
aiguilles,  one  of  which  is  the  true  summit, 
heighten  the  resemblance  still  more  by 
looking  as  if  built  of  superimposed  blocks 
of  stone.  When  we  had  clambered  up  to 
the  top  of  the  wall,  which  was  at  least  five 
or  six  feet  broad,  we  walked  easily  along, 
sometimes  climbing  over  a  large  block  of 
stone  covered  with  snow,  until  the  thor- 
oughfare came  to  an  end  at  the  foot  of  the 
first  summit.  Here  we  saw  that  it  would 
be  necessary  to  pass  round  the  outer  wall, 
which  descended  quite  vertically  for  some 
distance,  until  it  reached  the  snow-slopes 
and  seracs  which  led  down  to  the  glacier. 
Our  guide  went  first,  showing  us  that  there 

96 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

was  in  reality  no  difficulty  about  this  mau- 
vais  pas,  which  at  first  sight  did  not  look 
invitingly  easy.  We  all  held  him  by  the 
rope,  while  he  worked  along  the  face  of 
the  wall,  clinging  to  the  projections,  or 
searching  with  his  fingers  for  the  crevices, 
and  then  with  a  long  step  across  space  (I 
cannot  remember  now  how  far  down  the 
slope  began,  but  the  impression  that  there 
was  both  space  and  depth  was  vivid  enough 
at  that  moment)  he  reached  a  sure  foot- 
hold in  the  rocks  of  the  second  "  chim- 
ney," and  then  we  all  followed  one  after 
the  other.  My  turn  came  last,  and  being 
slightly  embarrassed  by  the  wine-flask,  it 
was  necessary  for  me  to  hug  the  wall 
closely ;  then  with  a  brief  scramble  up 
the  rocks  we  reached  the  summit. 

Nowhere  among  the  Alps  is  there  a 
panorama  of  more  impressive  desolation 
than  this.  In  almost  every  similar  pros- 
pect, even  the  more  extensive  view  from 
the  Dom,  the  eye  may  travel  downward 
without  hinderance,  from  the  Switzerland 
of  the  Alpinists  to  the  deep  grooves  haunted 
by  summer  tourists  —  the  green  valley  with 
the  railway  track  along  the  bottom,  the 
great  hotels  —  and  one  may  imagine,  if  he 
cannot  see,  the  long  procession  of  pleasure- 
seekers,  each  carrying,  ant-like,  a  burden 

97 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

of  some  sort.  But  here  the  connecting 
links  are  missing ;  there  is  no  populous 
valley  just  below,  no  summits  seem  to 
overtop  us  but  the  distant  snows  of  Mont 
Blanc  and  the  "Grand  Combin,"  and 
nothing  meets  the  eye  but  the  world  of 
ice  and  rocks,  and  solitude,  which  shuts 

out  the  nether 
world. 

Here  on  the 
summit  one  of 
the  Italians  had 
an  ill  turn, 
which  might 
have  been 
mountain  sick- 
ness, or  it  may 
have  been 
caused  by  indi- 
gestion, and  it 
was  evident 
that  our  guide 
felt  some  anxiety  about  getting  him  down 
along  the  wall;  but  after  he  had  slept  for 
half  an  hour  in  a  sunny  nook  the  feeling 
passed  off,  and  we  reached  the  cabane 
without  further  difficulty. 

On  the  following  morning  we  started  for 
Cogne  by  the  Col  de  Lauzon,*  a  charming 

*  Col  de  Lauzon,  9,500  feet. 
98 


Josef  Marie  P err  en  (Guide  at  Zermatt). 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

route,  from  the  forest  of  fir  and  larch  above 
Pont  to  the  high  green  pasture  slopes,  and 
over  a  rocky  saddle,  where  we  had  a  capa- 
cious lunch.  While  we  lay  smoking  on  a 
flat  rock  in  the  sunshine,  and  sheltered  from 
the  wind  on  the  "  Col,"  a  single  chamois 
wandered  across  a  patch  of  snow  far  below 
us:  we  all  shouted  at  once;  and  he  disap- 
peared with  a  few  leaps,  followed  by  eight 
others.  Down  among  the  green  slopes  be- 
low we  came  to  a  hunting-lodge  belonging 
to  the  King,  and  late  in  the  afternoon  we 
reached  the  little  town  of  Cogne.  The 
villagers  were  all  sitting  and  gossiping  on 
their  doorsteps  when  we  passed  through, 
as  it  was  Sunday  afternoon,  and  the  blond- 
haired  peasant-girls  were  in  holiday-attire  ; 
all  wore  high  white  ruffs,  like  those  in  por- 
traits of  the  Medici  period,  long-waisted 
bodices,  and  short  skirts  of  some  dark  blue 
material,  relieved  by  narrow  strips  of  col- 
ored silk. 

There  were  two  hotels  in  the  village, 
and  one  of  my  companions  said  that  they 
were  going  to  the  "  Grivola."  He  did 
not  like  to  recommend  it,  as  it  was  kept 
by  his  cousins,  and  he  even  admitted  that 
it  was  considered  dearer  than  the  other; 
but  we  went  to  the  "  Grivola  "  notwith- 
standing.     The  sign-board  swung  in  the 

99 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

wind  at  the  end  of  a  long  iron  bracket, 
and  the  whitewashed  stone  walls  were 
pierced  by  small  grated  windows,  a  preva- 
lent fashion  in  Cogne,  which  gives  to  the 
place  something  of  the  character  of  a  Span- 
ish village.  Within,  there  was  a  long  din- 
ing-room with  quaint  old  furniture,  and 
quainter  engravings  on  the  white  walls. 
In  the  travellers'  book  a  noted  climber 
had  recorded  his  ascent  of  the  Gran  Para- 
diso  without  a  guide  ;  it  may  have  been 
easy  enough  for  him,  but  the  casual  ama- 
teur would  feel  more  tranquil  with  some 
one  at  the  other  end  of  a  rope. 

Here  our  friends  were  made  welcome, 
and  we  all  had  a  huge  supper.  Roast 
chamois  was  one  of  the  principal  dishes, 
and  the  wine  of  the  Val  d'Aosta  was  poured 
out  by  a  girl  with  a  Medici  ruff.  After 
coffee  in  the  morning  my  bill  was  a  trifle 
over  five  francs,  all  included ;  but  possibly 
the  other  hotel  may  have  been  a  shade  less 
expensive. 


IV, 


The  Zinal-Rothhorn  or  "  Morning  "  is, 
to  use  an  Anglo-Indian  phrase,  a  "  puckah  " 
mountain,  which  means  that  it  is  the  real 
thing,  and  not  a  sham  ;  it  holds  a  very  re- 
spectable rank  among  the  local  aristocracy 


IOO 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineer  big 

of  rock  peaks,  the  crowned  heads  which 
rise  above  the  high  white  ridges  surround- 
ing Zermatt.  Although  we  found  no  un- 
usual difficulty  on  the  Rothhorn,  there  was 
too  much  snow  near  the  summit,  and  the 
ascent  was  long  and  fatiguing  ;  but  a  quiet 
gray-haired  lady  who  dined  at  the  table 
d'hote  at  'Zermatt  had  made  the  trip  three 
years  before,  and  did  not  seem  to  consider 
it  by  any  means  an  unusual  performance. 
Her  companion,  who  was  my  neighbor  at 
dinner,  told  of  a  man  who,  without  much 
previous  experience,  had  chosen  it  for  his 
first  essay  in  climbing.  When  he  had 
reached  the  peak,  with  its  shelving  slabs 
of  rock,  and  ladder  of  ice,  he  lost  his  head 
entirely,  and  the  guides  were  obliged  lit- 
erally to  carry  him  down,  one  of  them 
placing  his  feet  in  the  right  spots,  and  the 
other  holding  him  by  the  shoulders ;  this 
is  a  fine  illustration  of  the  strength,  cool- 
ness, and  pluck  of  these  men. 

Before  attacking  the  Rothhorn  we  had 
sustained  a  defeat,  or,  rather,  we  had  made 
an  ignominious  and  perhaps  unnecessary 
retreat  the  day  before.  We  had  first  un- 
dertaken the  "  Ober-Gabelhorn,"  which, 
although  not  quite  as  high  or  as  expensive, 
is  at  times  even  more  difficult.  After  pass- 
ing the  night  at  the  "Toft"  inn,  two  hours 


[OI 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

above  Zermatt,  we  were  obliged  to  give  up 
the  trip,  as  the  weather  had  changed.  We 
made  a  second  expedition  to  the  Trift  on 
the  following  day,  and  at  two  in  the  morn- 
ing we  set  out  for  the  Gabelhorn  again. 
Pietro  shook  his  head  doubtfully  when  he 
saw  the  quantity  of  snow  on  the  rocks,  and 
seemed  reluctant  about  starting.  During 
the  halt  for  breakfast,  at  sunrise,  on  the 
rocks  below  the  Gabelhorn  glacier,  we 
were  joined  by  an  English  climber  with 
a  "  record  "  and  a  vigorous  pair  of  long 
legs.  He  had  just  come  up  from  Zer- 
matt without  stopping  at  the  Trift;  and 
although  his  guides,  who  were  both  young 
and  ambitious,  seemed  very  doubtful  about 
the  success  of  the  undertaking,  he  decided 
to  keep  on  as  far  as  possible ;  and  we  all 
began  the  ascent  of  the  glacier  at  the  same 
time.  As  we  got  higher  up,  the  soft  snow 
covering  the  ice-slopes  became  deeper,  and 
Pietro  became  more  despondent.  Both  of 
my  guides  finally  halted,  and  declared  that, 
although  they  were  willing  to  keep  on,  they 
considered  it  a  useless  waste  of  strength, 
and  were  quite  sure  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  reach  the  summit  in  time  to 
return  before  nightfall.  Yielding  to  the 
advice  of  the  older  and  more  experienced 
guide,  we  turned  back,  not  without  regret, 


1 02 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

and  concluded  to  devote  the  remainder  of 
the  day  to  prowling  about  on  the  lower 
summits,  and  to  attack  the  Zinal-Rothhorn 
on  the  following  night,  as  it  appeared  to 
be  in  better  condition,  and  less  buried  in 
snow.  We  had  not  proceeded  far  in  our 
descent,  looking  back  from  time  to  time 
at  our  friends,  who  were  still  struggling 
upward  through  the  deep  drifts,  when  Pi- 
etro  was  seized  with  the  qualms  of  indi- 
gestion, which  accounted,  in  a  measure, 
for  his  reluctance  to  go  on.  It  is  quite 
impossible  for  any  man,  however  strong, 
to  climb  rocks  when  suffering  from  even 
the  least  touch  of  dyspepsia  ;  one  might 
as  well  engage  in  a  prize-fight  with  a  bro- 
ken wrist. 

It  was  not  until  five  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon that  our  friend  returned  to  the  inn, 
just  as  we  were  thinking  of  sending  up 
after  him,  and  narrated  over  his  tea,  and 
in  a  voice  as  husky  as  my  own  at  the  mo- 
ment, how  they  had  at  last  reached  the 
"  Gabel "  after  unusual  exertion,  and  in 
spite  of  the  overhanging  cornices  of  snow, 
they  had  clambered  up  to  the  summit. 
The  guide,  who  was  still  suffering  from 
indigestion,  was  replaced  by  Peter  Taug- 
walder  (No.  2),  and  by  two  a.m.  we 
were  toiling  up  the   steep  and  seemingly 

103 


So) fie  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

endless    moraines     below    the     Rothhorn 
glacier. 

Now,  while  we  are  still  half  awake,  and 
not  wholly  reconciled  to  being  up  and 
astir,  it  seems  a  fitting  moment  to  make 
the  admission  that  one  of  the  least  attrac- 
tive features  connected  with  the  assault  of 
any  respectable  peak,  is  the  unearthly  small 
hour  at  which  one  is  routed  out  of  bed, 
and  compelled,  for  the  sake  of  prudence, 
to  swallow  a  substantial  meal.  When  the 
previous  night  is  passed  on  the  straw  of  a 
"Club  hut,"  one  may  sometimes  look  for- 
ward to  early  rising  without  regret ;  but 
when,  as  at  the  Trift,  one  is  luxuriously 
ensconced  between  sheets,  under  a  thick 
eiderdown,  and  the  guides  rap  at  the  door 
at  one  a.m.,  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine 
the  feelings  of  the  condemned,  when  the 
entrance  of  the  jailer  before  daylight  ad- 
mits of  only  one  construction.  Then  one 
is  inclined  to  turn  over,  with  a  vague  sense 
of  injury  at  the  thought  of  the  black  cliffs 
sheathed  in  ice.  But  once  out  in  the  keen, 
clear  air,  well  fortified  by  something  hot 
inside,  there  comes  to  the  climber  a  new 
sense  of  positive  exhilaration  at  the  pros- 
pect of  the  work  before  him;  and  the  mere 
fact  of  being  alive  is  in  itself  a  source  of 
rejoicing.      Overhead  the  sky  is  cloudless 

104 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 


Raphael  Biner  on  the  Last  Ice  Cornice  of  the  Kothhom 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

and  star-lit,  with  a  waning  moon,  not 
powerful  enough  to  illuminate  the  depths 
of  shadow  thrown  across  the  valley  by  the 
heights  behind ;  and  for  a  long  distance 
the  path  is  (indistinguishable  save  in  the 
little  circle  of  light  cast  by  the  lantern  of 
the  guide  in  front,  so  that  one  is  obliged 
to  mind  his  steps  while  picking  his  way 
from  one  bowlder  to  another.  In  front 
rises  the  ragged  outline  of  the  Gabelhorn, 
and  the  dark  masses  of  rock  which  conceal 
the  Rothhorn,  all  in  the  diffused  and  spec- 
tral light  which  comes  just  before  dawn. 

Once  out  of  the  gloom  and  shadow,  the 
lantern  is  extinguished;  behind  us,  and  be- 
yond the  vague  darkness  which  still  lurks 
in  the  ravine  of  the  Trift,  arise  the  spot- 
less snows  of  the  Monte  Rosa  chain,  cutting 
sharply  against  the  first  pink  flush  of  the 
sky.  Then  follows  the  matchless  pageant 
of  early  dawn,  and  the  sunrise,  which  has 
an  impressive  solemnity  in  these  high  lati- 
tudes unequalled  elsewhere.  More  than 
once  I  have  seen  the  guides  halt  in  their 
steps  and  turn  back  to  enjoy  it,  accustomed 
as  they  are  to  the  spectacle;  and  it  is  al- 
ways a  pleasure  to  see  in  their  rough-hewn, 
weather-beaten  faces  the  gleam  of  recog- 
nition which  shows  that  they  too  are  keenly 
alive  to  its  beauty. 

106 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

Long  before  this,  the  last  regret  at  our 
enforced  early  rising  has  vanished  ;  all 
other  regrets  and  cares  which  may  have 
followed  us  to  Zermatt  have  been  left  be- 
hind and  forgotten  for  the  moment ;  most 
of  them  lurk  among  our  belongings  left  at 
the  hotel  in  Zermatt,  and  not  one  has 
followed  us  beyond  the  little  room  at  the 
Trift.  For  the  moment  the  one  absorbing 
aim  in  life  is  to  see  the  end  of  this  inter- 
minable moraine.  One  could  not  but  think 
of  Dante's  obscure  wood,  — 

"  E  quanto  a  dir  qual  era  e  cosa  dura ; " 

and  beyond  the  last  of  the  moraine  we 
mount  the  ice  of  the  Rothhorn  glacier. 
There  is  but  little  of  it ;  and  we  come 
almost  at  once  to  the  towering  barrier  of 
rocky  precipice  at  the  left,  which  is  the 
first  formidable  outwork  of  the  Rothhorn 
itself.  Although  we  could  not  have  been 
favored  with  a  milder  day  for  this  prome- 
nade, the  way  up  the  vertical  wall,  which 
lay  along  the  groove  worn  by  a  cataract, 
was  covered  with  a  thin  coating  of  ice, 
where  the  spray  had  frozen  during  the 
night.  The  staircase  cut  by  another  cas- 
cade a  little  farther  on  was  equally  slip- 
pery ;  but  after  Biner  had  prospected  a 
little,  he  found  a  way  which  would  con- 

107 


Some  Episodes,  of  Mountaineering 

duct  us  to  the  more  gentle  slopes  above. 
One  of  the  chief  beauties  of  this  particu- 
lar Rothhorn  *  is,  that  it  does  not  give  one 
much  leisure  for  retrospection,  but  offers 
in  rapid  succession  almost  every  variety  of 
climbing  necessary  to  keep  one's  interest 
from  flagging.  When  we  had  gained  the 
summit  of  the  rocks,  high  above  the  gla- 
cier, we  were  confronted  with  a  long  and 
exceedingly  steep  slope  of  mingled  snow 
and  ice,  where  step-cutting  was  necessary 
in  places,  and  one  or  two  halts  to  gain 
breath,  before  we  could  reach  the  summit 
of  the  long,  winding  ridge  which  leads  to 
the  peak.  Sharp  points  of  rock  pierce  the 
snow  in  some  places  ;  but  in  front  of  us 
stretches  away,  in  long  perspective,  the 
sharp  arete  which  we  must  traverse,  never 
straight  or  even,  but  sinuous,  winding, 
alternately  rising  and  falling,  or  hanging 
over  in  curving  cornices,  which  we  must 
avoid  by  long  detours,  so  that  it  seems 
at  times  like  being  on  the  ridgepole  of 
some  vast  white  cathedral.  The  snow  has 
begun  to  melt  a  little,  and  it  is  not  difficult 
to  keep  one's  footing;  but  in  places  where 
the  wind,  by  constant  friction,  has  left  only 


*  Near  Zermatt  alone  there  are  three  Rothhorns.  The 
Unter-Rothhorn,  10,190  feet ;  Ober-Rothhorn,  11,214  feet>  guides, 
jo  francs;  Zinal-Rothhorn,  13,855  feet,  guides,  80  francs, 

108 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

a  knife-like  edge,  the  concentrated  atten- 
tion which  is  necessary  becomes  at  last 
fatiguing,  so  that  it  is  with  a  sense  of  re- 
lief that  we  descend  steeply  the  end  of 
the  arete,  and  cautiously  mount  a  slender 
bridge  of  snow  like  a  white  flying  buttress, 
supported  from  below  by  a  spur  or  thin 
curtain  of  rock  which  runs  out  from  the 
base  of  the  peak. 

We  are  now  at  the  foot  of  the  mighty 
pyramid  of  splintered  rock,  powdered  in 
places  with  fresh  snow,  which  rises  in 
front  to  a  discouraging  height ;  and  we 
can  realize  in  a  measure  that  there  is 
work  before  us.  Moving  carefully  across 
the  slope,  through  loose  snow  and  over 
rocks,  we  reach  the  steep  and  narrow  cou- 
loir rilled  with  ice  by  which  we  mount  to 
the  "saddle."  Here  the  guides  deposit 
their  sacks  and  all  superfluous  articles,  and 
we  fortify  ourselves  with  a  third  breakfast. 
In  doing  this  sort  of  work,  one  feels  the 
need  of  a  substantial  banquet  at  least  once 
every  two  hours.  The  place  is  a  veritable 
saddle ;  for  on  the  other  side  the  slope  is 
quite  as  steep,  so  that  it  is  almost  like  sit- 
ting astride  of  a  wall.  Even  the  piollets 
are  left  behind,  with  the  exception  of  Bi- 
ner's,  who  takes  the  lead,  and  does  the 
cutting.      In  places  like  this  only  a  prac- 

109 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

tised  expert  can  carry  his  axe  without 
being  embarrassed  by  it,  when  both  hands 
are  needed,  and  where  the  best-trained 
acrobat  would  be  manifestly  inferior  to  a 
Barbary  ape.  The  thin  wedge  of  rock  on 
which  we  have  been  sitting  stops  at  the 
foot  of  a  wall ;  there  is  no  difficulty  in 
getting  up,  as  the  notches  occur  in  the 
right  places,  and  one  gains  a  little  extra 
confidence  for  what  is  before  him.  Now 
comes  something  quite  different, — a  broad 
table-like  surface  of  smooth  rock,  sloping 
downward  with  such  a  degree  of  convex- 
ity as  to  hide  the  base  of  the  mountain 
below ;  and  beyond  its  curving  edge  noth- 
ing is  visible  nearer  than  the  glaciers  of  the 
Zinal  Valley.  Too  steep  to  walk  across, 
and  with  little  or  no  apparent  irregular- 
ity of  surface,  it  resembles  the  cmooth, 
rounded  slope  of  a  mansard  roof.  But  a 
closer  inspection  discloses  two  or  three 
transverse  fissures ;  and  one  by  one,  with 
great  caution,  we  manage  to  wriggle 
across,  eel-like,  depending  on  our  fingers, 
elbows,  and  the  friction  of  our  clothes, 
but  not  at  all  on  our  feet.  It  is  in  reality 
much  easier  than  it  looks,  as  one  feels 
instinctively  where  to  bestow  his  weight. 
Upon  the  other  side,  some  sharp  jutting 
points   of  rock    afford   a   safe   anchorage, 


no 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 


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Getting  Dmvn  the  Ledge  aboz>e  the  Saddle  —  Rothhorn 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

where  we  may  take  breath  for  a  moment, 
and  looking  upward  contemplate  the  next 
bit  of  work.  Although  widely  different 
in  character,  it  is  not  a  whit  more  invit- 
ing. A  long  and  glassy  ice-slope  of  ex- 
ceeding steepness  leads  straight  to  the  top 
of  the  ridge  near  the  first  peak ;  a  narrow 
ledge  or  ridge  of  rock  begins  high  up,  and, 
protruding  through  the  ice,  reaches  about 
half-way  down  the  slope ;  to  gain  this  point 
is  the  object  of  the  next  effort.  While 
Peter  and  I  enjoy  the  well-earned  luxury 
of  indolence,  Biner  goes  on  and  hacks 
away  with  his  piollet,  cutting  a  series  of 
deep  gashes  in  the  hard  ice ;  half-way  to 
the  lower  end  of  the  ledge  he  reaches  the 
end  of  his  coil  of  rope,  and  shouts  for  us 
to  come  up.  Leaving  Peter  to  await  his 
turn  at  the  bottom,  I  mount  this  Jacob's 
ladder  of  ice  as  far  as  the  rope  will  per- 
mit, there  to  wait  until  Biner  has  gained 
the  rocks.  To  describe  this  slope  as  near- 
ly vertical  would  be  to  exaggerate  ;  but  it 
certainly  has  the  inclination  of  the  average 
straight  "  mansard,"  and  to  walk  would 
necessitate  too  much  effort  in  keeping 
one's  balance.  Fortunately  the  steps  are 
so  deep  that  it  is  possible  to  rest  an  elbow 
in  one,  and  a  knee  in  another  ;  the  blows 
of  the  piollet  above  send  down  a  shower 

»3 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

of  ice  chips  which  fill  up  the  steps  as  they 
are  cut,  and  it  becomes  necessary  to  scoop 
them  out  with  one's  fingers.  Meanwhile 
there  is  leisure  to  look  around  and  enjoy 
the  landscape.  There  is  a  remarkably  fine 
view  of  the  Dent  Blanche,  which  seems  to 
have  borrowed  very  nearly  the  outline  of 
the  Matterhorn  when  seen  from  the  Staffel 
Alp  ;  *  but  most  of  the  scenery  is  down  in 
the  depths  beyond  and  below  the  placid 
countenance  of  Peter,  which  stands  out  at 
the  bottom  of  the  ice-slope,  against  the  deep 
gulf  of  the  Zinal  Valley,  for  the  smooth 
convexity  of  the  slope  effectually  conceals 
everything  between.  Biner  reaches  the 
rocks,  and  we  mount  rapidly  until  we 
can  lay  hold  of  the  first  sharp  ridge ;  at 
this   point   two    or   three   slender   cords  j" 


*  See  addendum  at  the  end  of  this  article  on  The  Matterhorn 
from  the  Staffel  Alp. 

t  This  extract  from  the  Alpine  Post,  a  bright  little  Swiss 
journal  (Sept.  6,  1893),  will  show  that  such  improvements  do 
not  always  meet  with  the  unqualified  approval  of  the  public : 
"  One  has  been  accustomed  to  look  on  the  Dent  Blanche  as  un- 
likely ever  to  be  degraded  by  being  bound  in  ropes  and  chains. 
But,  alas !  a  party  ascending  it  not  long  ago  found  to  their 
intense  disgust  that  a  rope  had  been  fixed  from  the  end  of  the 
traverse  below  the  first  'Gendarme'  to  the  arete.  In  this  coun- 
try it  is  illegal  to  remove  anything  such  as  ropes  off  a  mountain, 
otherwise  no  doubt  the  cord  would  have  been  cut  away  then  and 
there.  .  .  .  Climbers  will  remember  the  piece  of  ground  covered 
by  this  rcpe.  Our  correspondent,  when  ascending  the  Dent 
Blanche,  found  this  part  of  the  mountain  in  the  worst  possible 
condition  ;  and  he  does  not  hesitate  to  say  that  for  an  experienced 
party  (and  'duffers'  should  not  attack  first-class  peaks)  there 
was  no  danger  whatever,  though  great  care  was  requisite  in 
cutting  the  steps." 

114 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

protrude  from  the  ice.  Some  one  has 
evidently  taken  the  trouble  to  fasten  them 
before  the  ice  had  formed  ;  but  they  are 
hardly  strong  enough  to  bear  one's  weight, 
and  the  rocks  offer  a  more  secure  hold. 
It  is  not  advisable,  however,  to  attempt 
walking  yet.  As  the  rocks  are  stratified 
vertically,  they  offer  no 
transverse  breaks  in  which 
to  insert  one's  fingers;  but 
the  roughness  of  their  sur- 
face is  sufficient  to  allow 
of  a  firm  hold.  A  short 
walk  along  the 
crest  of  the 
ridge  leads  us 
to  the  first  of 
the  two  crags  which 
form  the  summit,  and 
the  next  step  is  a  gym- 
nastic performance  in 
which  some  caution 
is  advisable.  This  first 
peak  runs  up  into  a 
narrow  wedge  of  rock 
crowned  by  thin, 
pointed  slabs  like  a 
stone  fence,  or  like 
gravestones,  slanting 
outward,   and    over-     Raphael  Bimri  GHide-  z*rmmn. 

"5 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering' 

hanging  the  perpendicular  wall  on  the 
Zermatt  side  which  seemed  so  grand  and 
impressive  when  we  looked  up  at  it  from 
the  snow  arete  below.  Around  and  under 
these  leaning  slabs  it  is  necessary  to  pass, 
one  by  one,  placing  our  feet  carefully  in  a 
little  fissure  like  the  gutter  along  a  house- 
top, hugging  the  gravestones  which  hang 
over  us,  and  leaning  backward  until  we 
overhang  the  abyss,  some  three  thousand 
feet  below.  It  is  easy,  however,  to  shift 
our  hold  from  one  slab  to  another,  and 
where  the  fissure  ceases  there  are  little  pro- 
jecting points  which  afford  secure  footing. 
And  then  it  is  much  more  agreeable  to 
hang  over,  back  down,  than  in  the  reverse 
sense. 

The  guide  in  front,  having  reached  the 
end  of  this  gallery,  suddenly  disappears 
through  a  gap  in  the  wall,  which  is  like 
an  embrasure  between  two  battlements  of 
a  fortress,  barely  wide  enough  for  us  to 
squeeze  through,  one  by  one ;  the  passage 
descends  steeply  like  a  stairway  encum- 
bered with  snow,  and  we  come  out  on 
the  Zinal  side  again.  The  last  peak  is 
just  in  front  of  us,  but  to  reach  it  the  way 
lies  across  a  slender  ice-bridge  running 
upward  to  the  peak  at  a  decided  angle. 
The   accumulated    snow   hangs    over   the 

116 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaitieeritig 

cornice  in  beautiful  curves  and  rounded 
masses,  fringed  in  places  with  long  icicles, 
where  it  caps  the  wall  on  the  Zermatt 
side.  While  Biner  goes  ahead,  and  hacks 
out  a  passage  with  his  piollet,  there  is 
barely  time  to  scrawl  a  sketch  of  the  situ- 
ation in  front ;  *  and  then  with  a  brief 
scramble  up  the  rocks  beyond  the  cor- 
nice, we  are  on  the  summit.  There  is 
just  room  for  two  of  us  to  sit  on  the  same 
rock,  and  the  third  crouches  below  while 
we  finish  the  provisions  carried  in  our 
pockets;  for  the  guides'  sacks  have  been 
left  on  the  "saddle,"  and  the  bulk  of  the 
supplies  far  below.  Getting  down  is  an 
easy  matter  at  first,  cautiously  descending 
the  cornice,  along  the  gallery,  which 
might   be   less   agreeable    on    a    cold    day 


*  For  those  sketches  illustrating  climbing  episodes,  the  writer 
does  not  claim  topographical  accuracy ;  since  most  of  them  were 
materialized  from  hasty  notes,  and  aim  merely  to  render  his  own 
impressions  at  the  moment.  The  one  showing  the  last  snow 
cornice  on  the  Rothhorn  was,  however,  made  from  a  more  care- 
ful scrawl ;  and  the  main  lines  were  closely  followed,  as  there 
was  an  opportunity  to  do  this  while  the  leader  was  cutting  steps. 
There  are  many  places  where  a  small  camera  may  be  used,  and 
there  are  others  where  it  would  be  extremely  injudicious  to  allow 
one's  attention  to  wander  from  the  work  in  hand ;  and  they  are 
precisely  the  places  where  an  amateur  would  want  to  make  a 
snap-shot.  It  is  no  more  than  fair  to  consider  the  guides  at  such 
moments;  and  unless  one  is  a  member  of  the  C  A.,  and  presu- 
mably a  la  hauteur  de  la  situation  (whatever  it  may  be),  or  is  as 
clever  an  acrobat  as  the  man  at  the  Folies  Bergere,  who  changes 
his  clothes  on  a  tight  rope  and  breaks  moving  glass  bulbs  with  a 
Winchester  at  the  same  time,  he  had  better  be  content  with  do- 
ing one  thing  well,  and  to  remember  that  there  is  no  net  under 
him. 

117 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

with  a  high  wind;  and  we  do  not  forget 
to  exercise  a  certain  amount  of  calm  de- 
liberation when  we  get  to  the  steep  ice- 
slope.  Then  comes  the  sloping  rock;  and 
here  one  cannot  but  envy  the  unerring 
judgment  of  that  "expert"  who  figures  so 
often  in  the  pages  of  "  Baedeker,''  and 
whose  presumed  superiority  is  particularly 
aggravating  in  the  passages  marked,  "  for 
experts  only,  with  the  best  guides."  It  is 
not  so  easy  to  find  the  projections  or  fis- 
sures as  it  was  in  getting  up ;  and  about 
half-way  down,  when  Peter's  head  had 
disappeared  below  the  verge,  the  last  crev- 
ice seemed  to  have  disappeared  also,  in 
the  smooth  surface  of  the  rock.  Hearing 
the  hoarse  voice  of  the  guide  behind,  I 
look  up,  and  see  that  he  has  taken  a  turn 
of  the  rope  around  a  rock,  and  has  braced 
himself  against  it;  so  letting  go,  I  slide 
down  to  the  bottom,  and  then  down  the 
ledge  to  the  saddle.  ...  It  was  sunset 
when  we  reached  the  glacier,  and  dark- 
ness overtook  us  before  we  got  to  the 
bottom  of  the  moraines  and  the  Trift 
valley.  A  light  far  below,  which  we  at 
first  mistook  for  the  window  of  the  inn, 
proved  to  be  the  lantern  of  the  hotel- 
keeper,  who  had  come  out  to  meet  us. 
We  had  been  out  over  seventeen  hours  in 

118 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

all,  and  the  unexpected  depth  of  the  snow 
must  in  any  case  have  added  several  hours 
to  the  usual  time.  It  was  our  intention 
to  keep  on  to  Zermatt  that  night ;  but 
having  feasted  royally,  and  quenched  our 
thirst,  no  one  seemed  disposed  to  carry 
out  the  valiant  intentions  of  an  hour  ago. 
Moreover,  we  may  have  remembered  at 
that  moment  the  sad  fate  of  the  German 
climber,  who,  having  scaled  one  of  the 
giants,  was  proceeding  homeward  at  night 
down  an  actual  path,  by  lantern-light, 
when  he  stumbled  and  fell  into  a  gulley 
a  few  feet  below,  with  most  unpleasant 
results ;  and  we  concluded  then  not  to 
face  the  dangers  of  the  path  down  the 
Trift  valley  before  daylight. 


Between  the  guides  of  Zermatt,  Evo- 
lena,  and  other  centres  of  Alpinism  in  the 
Valais,  it  would  be  somewhat  invidious  to 
make  any  distinction  ;  but  those  whose 
portraits  are  here  given  have  accompanied 
the  writer  on  many  excursions,  and  al- 
though each  one  of  them  has  had  more 
favorable  opportunities  of  showing  his 
prowess,  they  are  all  men  whose  strength, 
endurance,  and  general  capacity  are  equal 

119 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

to  any  emergency.  It  would  be  hardly 
doing  fair  justice  to  the  reader,  as  well  as 
to  the  subject,  to  show  only  the  bright 
side  of  it,  and  not  to  make  the  admission 
that  it  has  a  seamy  side  as  well.  With  the 
yearly  increase  of  travel,  many  charming 
excursions  which  were  easy  to  make  a  few 
years  ago,  are  becoming  more  difficult,  — 
the  hap-hazard  wandering  with  a  knap- 
sack from  one  valley  to  another,  when  one 
was  always  sure  of  finding  a  bed  some- 
where. In  the  Tyrol,  for  instance,  where 
comfortable  hotels  are  rarer,  the  pedestrian 
had  better  take  along  a  shelter-tent  and 
proceed  on  an  independent  basis.  It  was 
the  writer's  experience  this 'last  season  to 
enter  the  valley  of  Sulden  (near  Meran) 
over  a  high  pass  where  both  he  and  the 
guide  were  well  drenched  by  a  sudden 
storm  of  rain  and  sleet;  and  upon  arrival 
in  the  village  they  were  unable  to  find 
sleeping  accommodations,  or  even  a  place 
to  change  their  clothing,  the  few  cabarets 
which  did  duty  as  hotels  being  crammed 
with  German  and  Austrian  tourists.  When 
one  has  only  a  brief  space  of  time,  a  fort- 
night or  three  weeks,  to  spend  among  the 
giants,  he  may  as  well  make  up  his  mind 
to  take  what  comes  in  his  way,  and  not  to 
set  his  heart  upon  any  particular  one,  least 

1 20 


So»/c  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 


A    Rest  on  the   Way  Doivn 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

of  all  on  the  uncertain  and  capricious  Dent 
Blanche,  and  to  have  some  other  alternative, 
some  other  seductive  programme  in  view, 
by  way  of  compensation,  should  he  chance 
upon  a  season  of  bad  weather.  When  one 
is  fairly  penned  up  and  snow-bound  in  some 
high  and  desolate  valley,  there  is  nothing 
for  him  to  do  but  watch  the  dance  of  the 
merry  snow-rlakes  through  the  window- 
panes,  in  the  privacy  of  his  own  quarters, 
where  the  pattern  of  the  wall-paper,  should 
there  be  any,  is  often  exasperating  to  his 
vexed  spirit,  and  afflicts  him  as  an  addi- 
tional grievance  if  he  is  at  all  susceptible 
to  harmony  of  color;  or  he  may  hang  over 
the  stove  in  the  common  room,  wrapped 
in  an  ulster,  and  try  to  find  oblivion  in  the 
pages  of  the  "London,  Chatham,  &  Dover 
Railway  Guide,"  or  hunt  for  the  missing 
pages  of  the  "pension  novel."  It  is  then 
that  he  will  think  of  Pallanza,  where  the 
summer  still  lingers,  of  long  pulls  on  the 
lake,  and  breakfast  in  the  vine-roofed  por- 
tico of  some  little  albergo  on  the  shore  — 
of  Venice,  and  the  swimmers  at  the  Lido 
—  and  if  he  does  not  care  to  retrace  his 
steps  back  to  the  starting-point,  he  will 
find  a  porter  to  carry  his  bag  over  one  or 
two  of  the  minor  passes,  where  fresh  snow 
has  covered  the  green  pasture  slopes  and  has 

123 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

drifted  neck-deep  on  the  cols;  and  thence 
down  to  the  Valley  of  Gressonny  or  the 
Val  Sesia,  and  so  on  to  the  chestnut-woods 
and  the  sunshine. 


An  ascent  of  the  Matterhorn,  made  some 
time  after  the  foregoing  article  was  printed, 
has  elicited  from  the  author  the  following 
addendum  :  — 

The  outline  of  the  Matterhorn  from 
the  Staffel  Alp,  or  indeed  from  almost  any 
point  of  view,  is  a  striking  instance  of  op- 
tical illusion.  The  north  arete,  by  which 
it  is  usually  ascended  from  the  Zermatt 
side,  appears  to  mount  almost  vertically 
to  the  great  bulging  shoulder  near  the 
summit,  and  to  study  its  ragged  edge  and 
giddy  windings  from  below  has  a  rather 
disheartening  effect  on  the  timid  amateur. 

It  is  only  when  seen  in  profile,  or  when 
one  is  actually  on  it,  that  its  terrors  are 
sensibly  diminished  ;  and  instead  of  work- 
ing his  way  up  the  angle  of  a  tower,  the 
climber  has  to  surmount  a  series  of  rocky 
pinnacles,  which  might  be  likened  to  the 
ruins  of  a  score  of  Gothic  cathedrals. 
Were  the  ropes  and  chains  removed  from 
the  cone,  it  would  again  become  the  most 
dangerous  and  uncertain  of  peaks ;  for  al- 

124 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

though  other  ascents  may  present  more 
difficult  problems  in  climbing,  there  are 
few  summits  which  afford  so  slight  a  foot- 
hold, so  little  to  take  hold  of,  and  where 
one  is  more  at  the  mercy  of  the  elements 
and  the  unforeseen.  And  there  are  few 
which  consist  entirely  of  peak,  without  the 
tedious  prelude  of  moraine  and  glacier,  and 
endless  slopes  of  neve,  where  the  real  work 
begins  at  the  very  outset,  when  one  leaves 
the  cabane.  But  oh,  the  grandeur  of  it 
all  !  This  working  one's  way  by  lantern- 
light  along  the  face  of  a  wall  which  seems 
to  tower  upward  to  the  stars,  where  the 
sloping  glacier  below  might  lie  at  any 
depth  —  ten,  fifty,  or  a  thousand  feet. 
There  is  a  good  bit  of  glacier  work 
which  comes  in,  if  I  remember  rightly, 
on  the  way  down.  The  angle  of  the  de- 
scent is  here  so  violent  that  it  is  not  unlike 
getting  down  a  half-frozen  drift  lying  on 
a  steep  roof,  although  the  base  of  the  cliff 
on  the  left  affords  secure  handhold.  A 
feature  which  adds  much  to  the  apparent 
height  and  majesty  of  the  Matterhorn  is 
the  almost  vertical  downward  trend  or 
plunge  of  all  the  lines  which  radiate  from 
the  apex,  whether  couloirs,  ravines,  cre- 
vasses, or  the  slope  of  the  snow-fields,  the 
very  stratification  and  fractures  of  the  rock, 

125 


Some  Episodes  of  Mountaineering 

and  indeed  all  the  vast  complexity  of  de- 
tails which  go  to  make  up  its  architecture. 
This  mountain,  of  all  others,  seems  to 
be  regarded  with  more  respect  by  the  Gaul 
than  by  his  Anglo-Saxon  neighbors  across 
the  Channel.  He  has  at  the  same  time 
more  vague  and  uncertain  notions  of  its 
history.  On  the  first  page  of  one  of  the 
leading  Parisian  dailies,  there  was  a  surpris- 
ing announcement  last  season,  to  the  effect 
that  "  the  terrible  Mount  Cervin  "  had 
actually  been  ascended  for  the  first  time 
in  many  years,  —  and  by  an  American.  It 
had,  however,  been  conquered  at  some  re- 
mote date  by  two  Frenchmen.  The  edi- 
tor must  have  received  a  shower  of  ironical 
comments  from  the  brotherhood  of  climb- 
ers, telling  him  of  the  caravans  of  tourists 
which  now  swarm  up  its  sides  every  fine 
day  in  the  season ;  for  the  very  next  morn- 
ing there  was  an  elaborate  attempt  to  re- 
move the  false  impression  which  was  due 
to  a  printer's  error.  It  should  have  read, 
"ascended  for  the  first  time  this  season." 
But  the  correction  was  hardly  adequate  to 
explain  away  the  general  impression  left 
by  the  paragraph. 


126  - 


AN     ASCENT 
OF     MOUNT    J1TNA 

By  A.  F.  Jaccaci 

Illustrated  by  the  author. 


In  the  Lava  of  1886. 


RAVELLING  away  from 
Paris  in  the  late  autumn 
days,  there  passes  gradu- 
ally out  of  my  vision  the 
gray  landscape  of  France, 
rilled  with  melancholy 
signs  of  the  decline  and 
decay  of  nature.  As  the  train  leaves  the 
Alps  behind,  and  descends  toward  Turin, 
the  charm  of  the  south  begins  to  make 
itself  felt.  With  each  succeeding  hour  it 
grows  in  witchery,  —  a  brightness,  a  warm 

129 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  Attna 

radiance  that  rejuvenates  mind  and  body, 
and  sets  one's  whole  being  on  the  alert  to 
enjoy  every  feature  of  the  new  scenes. 

The  trip  from  Paris  to  Sicily  in  this 
season,  from  fields  strewn  with  sere  leaves, 
powdered  with  hoar-frost,  and  lined  by  des- 
olate trees  stretching  their  naked  branches 
in  dumb  entreaty,  to  the  breathing,  expan- 
sive nature  of  Italy,  acts  on  the  senses  as 
a  powerful  stimulant.  One  drinks  pleas- 
ure with  each  look  cast  at  sky  and  sea  of 
such  deep,  iridescent  color ;  at  landscapes 
garbed  in  abundant  vegetation,  and  spotted 
with  villages  set  in  the  shadows  of  ancient 
castles  ;  at  chains  of  hills  looking  in  the 
distance  like  trembling  veils  of  light.  The 
fatigue  and  tedium  of  a  sixty  hours'  trip 
are  easily  forgotten  in  the  succession  of 
fresh  sensations. 

Taormina,  midway  between  Messina 
and  Catania,  is  my  first  resting-place;  and 
after  a  night's  sleep  in  a  bed  'tis  good  to 
wake  breathing  the  sweet-scented  moun- 
tain air  that  vibrates  with  echoing  guttu- 
ral cries  of  street-venders  and  tinkling  of 
church-bells.  Bright  sunlight  floods  my 
room,  and  through  the  open  window  little 
houses,  all  white  amid  the  foliage,  look 
like  an  alighting  of  doves  in  a  garden. 
Beyond  are  rows  of  mountains;  some  near, 

130 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  Aitna 

all  rugged ;  the 
farthest,  sugges- 
tions more  than 
realities. 

From  a  ter- 
race   I    look 
down    a    pre- 
cipitous    in- 
cline four  hundred 
feet  deep  on  the  scattered 
huts  of  a  fishing  village. 
An  immense  stretch  of 
coast  juts  out  its  prom- 
ontories and  curves  its 
bays  from  that  village  v 

to  the  far  distant  hori-  women  of  mcoiosi. 

zon  ;  and  between  the 
blue  and  the  green  of  sea   and  land,  the 
sandy  shore  seems  a  golden  ribbon,  grow- 
ing narrow  till  it  is  lost  in  haze. 

Fitly  crowning  the  tableau  is  the  goal 
of  my  trip,  iEtna,  rising  gently  from  the 
sea  until  its  head  towers  above  all  else.  I 
had  first  seen,  from  a  car  window  as  the 
train  crawled  along  the  southern  coast  of 
Calabria,  this  giant  guardian  of  the  flock 
of  hills  which  constitute  the  island  of 
Sicily ;  and  from  near  as  from  far  it  brings 
to  one's  mind  the  striking  epithets  be- 
stowed on   it  by  Pindar,  "  Father  of  the 

131 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  Attna 

Clouds/'  "  Pillar  of  Heaven. "  Ever  cov- 
ered with  clouds,  so  that  its  immutable 
mass  of  rock,  and  the  airy,  fanciful  shapes, 
uniting  in  endless  combinations  their  dual 
natures,  appear  as  a  composite  whole,  iEtna 
is  indeed  of  earth  and  heaven.  The  shin- 
ing sun  glorifies  it,  the  moving  shadows 
of  its  crown  of  cloud-banks  give  to  it  an 
always  changing  aspect,  and  through  the 
clear  atmosphere  appears  distinctly  its  fur- 
rowed garment  of  craters  and  valleys,  lava 
torrents,  and  forests. 

In  this  marvellous  panorama,  facing 
which  the  ancient  Greeks,  with  their  pas- 
sionate feeling  for  beauty,  had  placed  the 
theatre  of  Taormina,  one  does  not  realize 
the  colossal  bulk  of  the  volcano.  The 
range  of  vision  is  such  that  the  compo- 
nent parts,  simple  details  in  a  grandiose 
ensemble,  lose  their  individual  value.  Yet 
from  eastern  to  western  spur  ^Etna  covers 
forty  miles,  and  more  than  forty  towns  and 
villages  are  strung  in  rosaries  of  bright  beads 
over  its  flanks  and  feet. 

From  the  highest  rows  of  seats  in  the 
Greek  theatre,  with  the  ruined  stage  as 
foreground,  there  unfolds  that  panorama 
like  the  most  sublime  of  backgrounds. 
From  down  the  stage,  framed  in  superbly 
by  broken  columns  and  fragments  of  brick 

132 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  sEtna 


G>«  ///<?  J?  tw^  to  Nicolosi 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  yJitna 

walls,  Etna's  solitary  cone,  set  against  the 
southern  sky,  is  a  symphony  of  snow  and 
azure,  of  mother-of-pearl  whites  and  trans- 
parent blues  —  an  ineffably  soft  and  vapor- 
ous vision. 

On  the  way  to  Catania,  shortly  after 
leaving  Taormina,  the  train  passes  through 
several  tunnels  cut  in  ranges  of  lava.  The 
first  savage  marks  of  the  volcano  are  these 
torrents  of  solid  matter  that  from  the  cen- 
tral mass  twenty  miles  away  have  run  into 
the  sea,  forming  continuous  ridges.  A  few 
miles  beyond  them  one  enters  fully  into 
/Etna's  kingdom.  There  against  an  uni- 
formly purplish  background,  —  the  purple 
of  lava,  —  springs  forth  the  brilliant  leaf- 
age of  orange,  lemon,  and  fig  trees,  and  of 
vines,  chastened  by  the  silvery  sheen  of  the 
classical  olive.  White  splashes  in  this  bub- 
bling color,  where  all  the  gamuts  of  greens 
and  purples  mix  and  melt,  are  the  walls  of 
tiny  houses  quaintly  built,  and  to  the  hur- 
ried passer-by  mysteriously  suggestive  of 
the  character  of  their  unseen  inmates. 

It  is  a  sight  of  singular  beauty,  this 
earth,  which  is  but  lava  ground  to  dust, 
so  enveloped  in  the  tenderness  of  growing 
vegetation.  The  patience  and  industry  of 
generations  of  men  have  changed  the  once 
grim  wastes  into  things  of  loveliness.    Yet 

134 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  JEtna 


^4    £r/<?w  <?/"  Mount  AZtna  from  tJie  Greek  Theatre  at  Tt 


aormina. 


now  and  again  the  nether  monster  reveals 
his  power.  Like  marks  of  the  lion's  paw 
are  seen  lonely  cairns  of  the  frothing, 
seething  matter  stopped  in  mid  rush,  and 
turned  to  stone.  How  strange  and  un- 
canny a  substance  is  this  lava  belched  forth 
in  lightnings  and  thunder  from  a  moun- 
tain in  labor,  —  a  sooty  mineral  calcinated 
to  the  core ;  all  good  substance  in  it  de- 
stroyed, leaving  but  a  skeleton  embryo 
scorched  and  shapeless,  that  gives  an  aw- 
ful impression  of  the  agonies  of  its  birth 
and  death  ! 


135 


An  A  scent  of  A  fount  Attna 

The  train  in  skirting  but  the  western 
side  of  the  volcano  rambles  incessantly 
through  tunnels  and  by  embankments  of 
lava.  From  the  fact  that  the  other  sides 
bear  no  less  testimony  to  frequent  devasta- 
tions, one  gathers  an  idea  of  the  extent  of 
those  eruptions,  whose  unbroken  record  is 
carried  down  from  prehistoric  times  to  our 
day. 

The  average  of  eruptions  in  this  cen- 
tury alone  is  one  every  four  or  live  years. 
Fortunately  iEtna  has  had  long  periods  of 
rest  following  its  active  moods.  Noticing 
that  these  periods  alternate  with  those  of 
Vesuvius,  scientists  have  inferred  that  there 
is  a  subterranean  connection  between  the 
two,  and  that  they  belong  to  a  group  of 
which  the  Lipari  Islands  are  a  minor  part, 
and  the  little  island  of  Pantelleria  the  last 
outlying  summit. 

All  poets  of  antiquity  were  familiar  with 
iEtna.  Curiously  enough,  Homer  does  not 
allude  to  its  volcanic  character  except  in 
his  episode  of  the  blinded  Cyclops,  Poly- 
phemus, hurling  rocks  after  Ulysses,  which 
is  but  a  transparent  myth  of  the  molten 
lava  rolling  down  the  mountain  with  such 
impetus  as  to  leap  from  the  high  cliffs  far 
out  into  the  sea,  forming  those  islets  still 
known  to  the  Sicilians  as  the  seven  "Scoglie 

136 


An  A  scent  of  Ahmnt  s£tna 


dei  Ciclopi."  The  war  of  the  Titans  against 
Jupiter,  the  forge  of  Vulcan,  allude,  no 
doubt,  to  eruptive  phenomena  utterly  in- 
explicable, that  by  their  very  suddenness 
and  magnitude  seemed  not  less  than  super- 
natural to  the  pantheistic  imagination  of 
the  Greeks. 


{A 
fa* 


IF 


irfV&Z 


JL 


The  Church  of  Trasecca,  zvith  Lava-stone  Decoration. 


iEtna,  placed  in  Magna  Grecia,  the 
oldest  historical  ground  of  Europe,  and  at 
the  doors  of  Athens  and  Rome,  has  been 
visited  and  described  by  many  eminent 
personages  of  classic  antiquity,  —  Pindar, 
who   narrates   the   eruption    of  B.C.   476 ; 


m 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  ALtna 

Aristotle  that  of  b.c.  340  ;  Pythagoras, 
Sappho,  Thucydides ;  Empedocles,  who 
found  a  voluntary  death  in  its  crater ; 
Cicero,  Catullus,  Virgil,  Ovid,  Diodorus, 
Strabo,  Suetonius,  etc.;  and  through  them 
even  the  memory  of  a  violent  outbreak 
in  prehistoric  times,  that  made  the  Sica- 
nians  abandon  the  district,  has  come  down 
to  us. 

To  look  from  a  speeding  train,  the  em- 
bodiment of  the  tendencies  and  achieve- 
ments of  our  epoch,  at  that  landscape, 
teeming  with  the  souvenirs  of  generations 
whose  ashes  are  mingled  with  the  ashes 
of  the  volcano,  stirs  the  mind  to  a  train 
of  philosophic  thought.  How  can  we 
help  feeling  the  pathos  of  that  history  of 
the  life-and-death  struggles  of  twenty-five 
hundred  years  come  home  to  each  of  us, 
when  we  are  so  forcibly  reminded  of  the 
fragility  of  human  effort  and  life  before 
that  nature,  ever  living,  ever  young,  ever 
cruelly  indifferent  to  the  passing  human 
herd? 

From  its  huge  neighbor  Catania  bor- 
rows the  chief  objects  of  its  adornment. 
Blocks  of  volcanic  material  are  used  for 
the  pavement  of  streets,  the  construction  of 
houses,  and  often  also  in  the  exterior  deco- 
ration of  important  buildings.      The  idea 

138 


1     .      '     ,  ' 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  ASttta 

of  relieving  the  white  stone  facades  with 
ornamental  details  wrought  in  dark  lava, 
when  judiciously  carried  out,  is  well 
adapted  to  the  curious  style  of  architec- 
ture known  as  Sicilian,  a  composite  of  three 
distinct  styles,  — the  Byzantine,  Arab,  anc^ 
Norman. 

Despite  its  originality,  its  cleanliness,  the 
city  to  me  has  a  stinted,  formal  look,  un- 
picturesque  in  the  extreme;  but  it  may  be 
that  the  far  from  good  name  Catania  bears 
in  Italy,  a  name  synonymous  with  unfair 
dealing,  prejudices  me.  It  is  a  fact  that 
reckless  speculation,  characterized  by  a 
deluge  of  worthless  promissory  notes,  has 
within  a  few  years  plunged  the  once  flour- 
ishing Catania  into  a  most  miserable  con- 
dition. Not  having  visited  it  since  the 
days  of  its  boom,  I  was  struck  by  one  pleas- 
ant evidence  of  the  usefulness  of  worldly 
misfortune,  which  had  transformed  the 
boom-period  dummies  attired  in  ultra- 
gaudy  finery  into  sensible  folk,  oblivious 
to  the  etiquette  of  Italian  city  manners 
and  who  wore  their  old  clothes,  and  had 
worn  them  so  long  that  shiny  seams  and 
scrupulous  patches  bespoke  a  poverty  sin- 
cere as  it  was  self-respecting. 

I  had  to  journey  toward  Nicolosi,  my 
starting-point  for  the  ascent  of  iEtna,  be- 

i4i 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  Attna 

hind  one  of  those  thin,  unfortunate  brutes, 
a  Catanian  horse ;  not,  however,  without 
making  an  express  bargain  that  under  no 
condition  should  the  whip  be  used.  "  Ma, 
signor ! "  the  driver  had  exclaimed  in  amaze- 
ment ;  "  he  won't  go  !  "  Well,  he  did  go, 
but  very  gently,  for  the  drive  is  a  hard 
twelve  miles  of  steady  up-hill  grade. 

The  road  winds  and  clambers  pleasantly 
between  vine-hung  walls  and  peeping  villas. 
The  little  retaining  stone  walls  incasing 
each  field  on  the  rapid  slopes  are  almost 
buried  in  verdure ;  umbrella  pines  look 
down  from  their  loftiness,  and  once  in  a 
while  some  dead  crater  protrudes  its  burnt 
head  above  the  sea  of  living  things. 

It  is  vine  harvest.  Files  of  burdened 
donkeys  pass  us,  prodded  on  by  the  peas- 
ants following  with  swift  and  swinging 
strides.  These  contadini  stare  at  us  intently, 
yet  with  faces  immobile,  and  so  brown  and 
furrowed,  so  sharp  of  contour,  that  they 
might  have  been  cut  from  the  dark  soil 
beneath.  Miserable  beyond  belief,  sub- 
missive in  suffering,  they  have  the  dull 
gaze  of  ruminants,  the  soul  asleep,  the 
mind  alert  only  for  food  and  shelter ;  and 
their  types,  bearing  the  stamp  of  their  great 
ancestors,  the  Greeks,  somewhat  mixed 
with  traits  of  former  alien  oppressors, — 

142 


n  Ascent  of  Mount  /Etna 


r" 


eh      3v^    f  -Jit  ^<-^l 


/Etna  from  the  Harbor  of  Catania. 

Arabs,  Normans,  Spaniards,  —  are  the  liv- 
ing witnesses  in  our  day  of  the  glory  and 
vicissitudes  of  their  race  through  the  ages. 

Night  falls  as  I  reach  Nicolosi  and  its 
primitive  inn,  deserted  now,  as  it  is  past 
the  season  for  climbing  the  mountain. 

The  chief  of  the  Guides  of  iEtna,  a  cor- 
poration established  by  the  Catania  branch 
of  the  Alpine  Club,  comes  to  make  the 
necessary  arrangements  for  my  trip.  At 
six  the  next  morning  the  guide  arrives, 
straps  the  provisions  on  his  back,  and  we 
are  off. 


143 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  ALtna 

The  road,  threading  vineyards,  is  flanked 
a  few  hundred  feet  to  our  left  by  a  ser- 
rated fin,  standing  a  defiant  barricade  be- 
fore two  big  reddish  cones,  the  Monte 
Rossi,  upheaved  in  1669  by  an  eruption 
which  almost  destroyed  Catania.  Scarce- 
ly a  mile  from  the  village  we  came  to  the 
limit  of  the  lava  of  1886,  which,  pouring 
in  a  vast  flood  down  the  slopes,  seemed 
about  to  sweep  away  the  Altarelli,  an  open 
chapel  dedicated  to  the  three  patron  saints 
of  Nicolosi.  The  priests,  with  a  piety  no 
doubt  strengthened  by  terror,  displayed  the 
veil  of  Santa  Agata,  a  holy  relic  which  in 
Catania  has  performed  miracles  innumer- 
able ;  and  the  destructive  lava,  respecting 
the  sanctuary,  divided  in  two  branches, 
leaving  it  untouched. 

It  would  have  been  a  personal  insult  to 
my  guide,  who  proudly  related  this  story, 
to  notice  that  the  Altarelli  is  built  on  an 
eminence,  and  that  there  is  present  evi- 
dence that  when  the  fiery  stream  reached 
this  point,  it  must  have  been  in  its  last 
spasms,  for  a  few  feet  beyond  it  stopped 
altogether.  Besides,  it  would  have  been 
a  useless  task ;  as  every  good  Nicolosian 
considers  a  natural  explanation  of  the 
miraculous  event  an  invention  of  the  dev- 
ils, enemies  of  his  patron  saints. 

144 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  /Etna 


\  'iew  from  Monte  Gemellari,  showing  some  of  tlie  Mouths  of  the 
Eruption  of  J 88b. 

Any  way,  I  was  soon  too  busy  to  think 
of  miracles.  A  mule-path  skirts  the  lava- 
bed  of  1886,  but  the  quickest  route  lies 
straight  across  it.  We  took  this  short 
cut;  and  it  gave  me  a  full  taste  of  volcano 
climbing,  to  the  understanding  of  which 
a  few  words  of  explanation  are  necessary. 

Liquid  lava  has  two  distinct  forms  :  the 
first,  when,  issuing  in  a  bubbling  mass,  it 
flows    like    compact    gruel ;    the    second, 

145 


An  A  scent  of  Motint  sEtna 

when  in  the  subterranean  depths  water 
coming  in  temporary  contact  with  burn- 
ing liquids,  the  two  elements  issue  pell- 
mell.  The  imprisoned  steam,  tearing  and 
bellowing  within  the  molten  lava,  whose 
temperature  often  exceeds  2,ooo°  Fahren- 
heit, bursts  forth,  hurling  to  the  heavens 
fiery,  chaotic  masses.  Continuous  explo- 
sions upheave  the  masses  again  and  again 
into  air,  pounding  and  grinding  them 
against  one  another.  Thus  they  leap  and 
fall,  battering  and  battered,  in  Titanic, 
vertiginous  dance,  scattering,  as  from  a 
monstrous  engine  of  destruction,  a  storm- 
rain  of  rocks,  sand,  and  ashes.  Now,  im- 
agine this  inferno  caught  in  its  maddest, 
wildest  activity,  and  held  fast,  the  knife- 
edge  excrescences  bristling  all  over  it  like 
savage  teeth  gnawing  the  air,  the  awful 
piling  up  on  its  heaving  sides  of  the  very 
vitals  of  the  volcano,  and  you  will  have  an 
idea  of  this  lava  which  for  seventeen  days 
of  the  spring  of  1886  furrowed  and  deso- 
lated a  thousand  acres  of  fair  country  into 
semblance  of  hell.* 

We  descend  into  valleys  and  pits,  silent 


*  The  new  crater  of  the  Monte  Gemellari,  situated  four  and 
a  half  miles  above  Nicolosi,  at  an  altitude  of  four  thousand  six 
hundred  and  fifty  feet,  was  formed  May  19,  1886,  after  a  violent 
earthquake.  Lava  flowed  until  June  3,  reaching  within  half  a 
mile  of  Nicolosi. 

146 


An  Ascent  of  Mount  /Stmt 

and  dusky  as  the  portals  to  the  world  of 
the  dead,  whose  monochrome  dark  pur- 
plish tone  makes  their  aspect  more  sinister. 
The  forbidding  stones  rise  in  ragged  walls 
piled  into  fantastic  shapes,  and  rivers  of 
rigid  lava  writhe  serpent-like  about  this 
Laocoon  of  iEtna. 

It  is  a  severe  test  of  endurance  to  force 

our  way  for  a  long  hour  and  a  half  across 

these  diabolical  wastes,  every 

instant   looking    down    to 

find  the  next  foothold,  and 

jumping  from  stone   to 

stone,  tottering,  falling, 


The  Little  Path   Threading  the   Vineyards  on  the  Slopes  of  SEtna. 
147 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  sKtmi 


fry?   "   *  ^V>**vBbJ 

■c;  *;»  *'->>',4.'.''--r>*>"" 


•  s^ 


^J«  Old  Crater. 


our  shoes  cut 
by  the  sharp 
edges,  until  we 
reach  a  territory 
redeemed  from 
some  more  ancient  lava- 
bed,  as  this  desert  will  also  be  redeemed  in 
a  century  or  two. 

Amid  the  vineyards,  along  a  little  path 
hemmed  in  by  stone  walls,  contadini  meet 
and  pass  us.  Here  asperities  have  been 
somewhat  smoothed  down  by  constant 
travel,  the  rougher,  larger  stones  removed, 
the  gaping  holes  rilled.  Time  and  nature 
have  spread  a  surface  soil,  where  flourish 
wild  plants  starred  with  fragile  blossoms. 

We  pass  near  craters,  of  which  a  con- 
tinuous array  will  precede  us  to  the  high- 
est cone ;  yet  we  see  but  a  very  small  part 
of  the  mountain,  whose  craters  extend  on 
every  side  within  a  radius  of  twenty  miles. 

148 


An  Ascent  of  Mount  JEtna 

Thinking  of  what  terrible  conflagrations, 
loss  of  life  and  property,  these  are  proof  of, 
the  power  within  appears  extraordinarily 
formidable. 

Now  the  stately  mountain  seems  to  rise 
in  its  might  above  and  over  our  heads, 
though  its  crest  is  hidden  in  cloud.  The 
vegetation  about  lacks  the  orange  and 
lemon  trees;  we  have  passed  their  altitude. 
Sturdy  vines  continue  the  fight  longer,  but 
we  leave  them  also  behind.  Big  oaks  and 
chestnuts,  copper  beeches,  birches,  and  the 
tall  Laricio  pines,  keep  us  company  till  we 
arrive,  four  hours  from  Nicolosi,  at  the 
way-house  in  the  woods,  —  Casa  del  Bosco, 
4,215  feet  above  the  sea-level.  We  are 
higher  than  the  summit  of  Vesuvius ;  the 
air  has  grown  perceptibly  sharper,  and  is 
now  quite  cold. 

After  lunch  and  a  rest,  having  taken  in 
a  supply  of  water  for  the  remainder  of  the 
journey,  we  resume  climbing  through  a 
narrow  and  crooked  valley,  along  a  zigzag 
path  barely  discernible  in  the  chaotic  con- 
fusion. The  higher  we  reach,  the  more 
pleasant  it  is  to  turn  and  look  back  on 
the  constantly  growing  panorama  of  bleak 
volcanic  stretches  dotted  with  woods  and 
gaping  cavities ;  farther  below,  floating  in 
the  green,  are  villages,  —  Catania,  then  the 

149 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  AZtna 


On  the  Brink  of  the  Great  Crater  of  Attna. 

turquoise  sea,  and  far  out  the  hilly  coast 
terminated  by  Cape  Augusta,  behind  which 
Syracusa  hides.  Here  and  there  isolated 
clusters  of  birches  and  pines,  set  in  an  un- 
dergrowth of  gigantic  ferns,  mark  all  that 
remains  of  the  dense  forests  which,  as  late 
as  the  last  century,  entirely  covered  ^Etna's 
flanks.  These  trees  no  longer  soften  the 
stern  impression  of  our  surroundings.  In 
a  rarified  atmosphere  that  dwarfs  and  stunts 
them,  they  lose  all  beauty,  and  simply  vege- 
tate between  life  and  death.  Becoming 
rare,  they  disappear  entirely  as  we  enter  the 
"Regione  Deserta"  the  region  of  cold  and 

150 


An  Ascent  of  Mount  sKtna 

death,  where  the  nakedness  of  rock  is  ab- 
solutely unrelieved.  A  bright  sun  imparts 
neither  cheer  nor  warmth,  but,  striking  the 
velvety  darkness  of  the  lava,  gives  it  a  steely, 
glittering  aspect,  as  though  the  mountain 
were  clad  in  chain-armor. 

The  wind  rises  and  falls  ;  blustering 
gusts  in  the  couloirs  and  on  the  plateaus 
are  succeeded  by  delightful  lulls.  Mists, 
thin  as  veils,  and  threatening  storm-clouds, 
drift  slowly  and  softly,  rolling,  lifting,  and 
revealing  vistas  of  bleak  mounds  piled  high. 
This  quiet,  delicate  life,  playing  in  goblin- 
like fashion  about  these  rigid  and  desolate 
scenes,  is  inexpressibly  lovely.  Such  sights 
and  sensations  charm  the  long  hours  of 
an  ascent,  arduous  and  intensely  fatiguing, 
though  devoid  of  the  worse  dangers  and 
consequent  excitement  of  Alpine  climb- 
ing. 

The  trail  becomes  steeper  and  steeper  as 
we  catch  a  first  glimpse  of  the  deservedly 
called  "  Serra  del  Solfizio"  a  saw-shaped 
ridge,  whose  feet  are  sunk  in  enormous 
hollows  filled  with  eternal  snow.  This 
is  our  first  sign  of  the  neighborhood  of 
the  magnificent  Valle  del  Bove,  reached 
after  crossing  a  tableland,  —  the  Piano  del 
Lago.  We  skirt  the  edge  of  the  cliffs, 
three  thousand  feet  deep,  which  form  a 

IS! 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  .Etna 

border  on  all  its  sides,  except  for  an  open 
gap  toward  the  east. 

Geologically,  this  basin,  three  miles  in 
width,  is  the  most  interesting  part  of  iEtna, 
as  competent  authorities  unite  in  consid- 
ering it  the  original  crater.  On  its  brink 
stands  the  Tower  of  the  Philosopher,  pre- 
sumably the  ruin  of  an  observatory  built 
for  the  Emperor  Hadrian  on  the  occasion 
of  his  visit  to  the  volcano. 

I  am  too  thoroughly  exhausted  to  do 
justice  to  any  more  sights ;  and  it  is  with 
the  yearning  of  the  flesh  that  at  last  I  see 
at  the  base  of  the  central  cone  two  white 
buildings,  —  the  Observatory  and  a  refuge, 
both  unoccupied  at  present.  We  have  the 
key  to  the  latter,  the  Casa  Inglesi;  so  called 
because  it  was  built  by  English  officers 
during  the  English  occupation  of  Sicily  in 
Napoleonic  times.  Though  rebuilt  and 
enlarged  by  the  Alpine  Club  of  Catania,  it 
remains  a  primitive  affair,  its  walls  lined 
with  bunks,  one  above  another,  as  in  a 
ship's  steerage ;  yet  it  affords  welcome  shel- 
ter against  a  cold  so  intense  that  our  beards 
and  coats  are  united  in  a  covering  of  ice. 

Too  tired  to  talk,  we  sup  hastily,  and 
fall  asleep  in  utter  weariness,  our  bodies 
sunk  in  yielding  straw,  our  feet  to  the 
fire,    which    warms,    soothes,    relaxes    the 

152 


An  Ascent  of  Mount  /Etna 


strained    muscles,    and   sets   the   blood    to 
buzzing  the  most  effective  of  lullabys. 

Awakening  at  midnight,  I  leave  the 
guide  to  gather  up  himself  and  our  traps 
while  I  go  outside.  The  door  closes  be- 
hind me,  and  I  stand  alone  in  the  night. 


The  Serra  del  Solfizio,  from  the   Valle  del  Bove. 

Lo  !  what  a  strange  stillness  there  is  in 
this  outer  world.  The  wind,  blowing  fit- 
fully, is  charged  with  unearthly  smells  and 
faint  echoes  of  subterranean  seethings  and 
rumblings.  From  invisible  holes  snaky 
vapors  rise  and  quiver  in  spiral  contortions. 

153 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  /Etna 

Monstrous  shapes  of  lava,  like  Titanic  dead 
upon  a  battlefield,  lie  on  the  plateau;  their 
icy  profiles,  brought  out  by  the  oblique  rays 
of  a  waning  moon,  shine  weirdly  among 
inky  shadows,  until  these  threatening  rocks 
seem  the  gathering  of  a  silent  demoniac 
host  to  overwhelm  and  ingulf  us.  But 
the  guide  opens  the  refuge  door,  and  at 
the  light  of  his  lantern  the  phantasma- 
goria vanishes. 

I  take  my  axe ;  and  we  start  to  pick  our 
way,  among  treacherous  crevices,  yawning 
and  bottomless,  toward  the  crater  that  lifts 
above  us  its  twelve  hundred  feet  of  im- 
maculate whiteness. 

In  August  an  ascent  of  the  last  cone, 
whose  perfectly  smooth  sides  slide  down 
at  a  gradient  of  thirty-five  degrees,  is  com- 
paratively easy  because  of  the  absence  of 
snow ;  but  thus  late  in  the  autumn  the 
thick  snow,  hardened  into  ice,  and  nightly 
covered  with  fresh  coats,  compels  the  fre- 
quent cutting  of  steps.  That  means  hard 
work  and  dangerous.  It  takes  two  hours 
to  reach  the  brink  of  the  crater,  a  single 
abyss  two  or  three  miles  in  circumfer- 
ence, from  whose  depths  emerge  countless 
wreaths  of  thin,  damp  smoke.  The  im- 
pression of  that  silent  gulf,  with  its  vitality 
expressed  only  by  the  sulphurous,  nauseat- 

154 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  AZtna 


Peasants  by  the  Way. 

ing  vapors  incessantly  rising,  curling,  and 
disappearing,  is  supremely  grand.  Beside 
/Etna,  one  remembers  Vesuvius's  sputter- 
ings  as  the  efforts  of  an  infant. 

It  was  three  o'clock  when  I  stood,  eleven 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea-level,  on  a 
small  pyramid  of  ashes  which  keeps  guard 
over  the  crater  and  the  whole  of  iEtna. 
The  north  wind  having  cleared  the  at- 
mosphere, brushing  away  clouds  and  haze, 
all  circumstances  were  favorable  to  my 
watching  the  sun   rise. 

The  moon  has  now  disappeared,  leaving 
no  trace  of  her  passage.  Sky,  sea,  and  land 
are  of  the  same  color,  an  immensity  of  in- 
distinct blue,  clearer  somewhat  overhead, 
darker  around  and  below.  The  only  sen- 
sation of  being  at  a  great  height  is  the 
piercing  cold  that  keeps  us  moving  about, 

i55 


An  A  scent  of  Mount  /Etna 

stamping  our  feet  on  the  ice,  that  resounds 
sonorously,  as  if  it  were  but  a  thin  cover- 
ing over  cavernous  depths.  A  change  of 
color,  so  gradual  that  it  is  more  felt  than 
seen,  begins.  A  subdued  radiance,  opal, 
dissolving  into  a  suggestion  of  pink,  tinges 
the  east.  The  details  of  the  crater  become 
more  distinct  as  night  recedes  to  the  low- 
lands. Impalpable  grayish  light  creeps 
up,  invading  the  heavens,  and  Aurora's 
rosy  refulgence  increases  every  moment  — 
a  veiled  splendor,  a  symphony  en  sourdine 
of  exquisitely  delicate  tints,  restful  and 
lovely.  A  like  scene  must  have  suggested 
the  poet's  descriptions  of  the  Elysian  Fields. 

Banks  of  billowy  clouds  wall  up  that 
part  of  the  horizon  where  the  sun  is  to 
appear.  Their  fleecy  bosoms  rise  and 
swell,  yield  and  part,  before  the  oncom- 
ing dawn. 

Above  them  the  glory  of  light  continues 
to  grow.  I  keep  my  eyes  anxiously  strained 
on  the  most  luminous  spot,  whence  of  a 
sudden  a  dart  of  light  crosses  space,  fleet- 
ing over  the  sea.  That  dart  increases  into 
a  golden  streak,  clearly  cut,  for  a  percep- 
tible moment,  on  the  purplish  water.  It 
changes  to  a  flood  of  light  while  the  disk 
of  the  sun  emerges  slowly  from  under  the 
horizon.      The  shadows  palpitate,  dissolve 

156 


An  Ascent  of  Mount  AUtna 

about  the  crest  of  iEtna,  transfiguring  her 
into  an  island  of  gold  and  rose.  Passionate- 
ly now  the  day  advances,  flinging  wide  her 
magic  skirts.  The  lower  valleys  awake,  the 
colors  of  their  vegetation  glow  and  dance. 
The  trees  lift  up  their  heads ;  it  seems  as 
if  in  that  profound  stillness  one  could  hear 
the  murmur  of  the  reanimation  of  things. 
The  sun  touches  every  corner  of  his  vast 
kingdom  ;   day  —  full  day  —  is  with  us. 

Beautiful  with  the  beauty  of  dreams  is 
the  spectacle. 

To  the  north  the  archipelago  of  the 
Lipari  Islands,  with  their  smoky  light- 
house of  Stromboli,  floats  on  the  irides- 
cent sea.  To  the  south,  on  the  border  of 
the  vast  horizon,  hover  two  ghosts,  Malta 
and  Pantelleria  ;  while  the  purple  shadows 
of  the  Calabrian  Mountains  on  the  main- 
land bridge  the  Straits  of  Messina,  hiding 
Charybdis  and  Scylla.  Cameo-cut  against 
the  sea,  Sicily  lies  at  our  feet,  displaying 
her  fifty  towns,  her  countless  villages,  the 
silver  ribbons  of  her  rivers,  the  thousand 
varied  details  of  her  uneven  soil ;  and 
across  her  whole  length,  as  a  tangible 
sign  of  his  dominion,  Lord  /Etna  stretches 
his  enormous  triangular  shadow. 


57 


THE    ASCENT 


OF    MOUNT    ARARAT 


By  H.  F.  B.  Lynch 


Mount  Ararat  from  Erwan,  Thirty-Jive  Miles  Distant. 


PREFATORY    NOTE. 

,HE  ascent  of  Ararat,  com- 
pleted on  Sept.  19,  1893, 
formed  an  incident  in  a  jour- 
ney, extending  for  a  period 
of  seven  months,  which  I 
undertook  in  1893— 1894  f°r 
%j§*  the  purpose  of  acquiring  a  bet- 

ter knowledge  of  the  country 
comprised  in  a  general  manner  by  the  lim- 
its of  the  Armenian  plateau.  I  was  ac- 
companied during  the  earlier  part  of  this 
journey  by  my  cousin,  Major  H.  B.  Lynch, 
of  the  Dorsetshire  Regiment ;  he  was  un- 
fortunately obliged  to  leave  me  and  rejoin 
his  regiment  almost  immediately  after  the 
accomplishment  of  the  ascent.      In  offer- 

161 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 


ing  some  account  of  our  experiences  upon 
the  mountain,  it  is  perhaps  only  fair  to 
myself  to  observe  that  the  narrative,  what- 
ever other  shortcomings  of  a  more  essential 
nature  it  may  possess,  has  undoubtedly  suf- 
fered as  a  presentation  and  description  of 
great  natural  objects,  which  it  is  no  small 
part  of  the  duty  of  a  writer  on  such  a 
subject  to  endeavor  adequately  to  portray, 
owing  to  the  necessary  limits  which  the 
space  at  my  disposal  has  imposed  upon  its 
length.  Although  it  is  impossible  to  make 
up  for  this  deficiency  in  the  course  of  a 
brief  note,  yet  I  would  ask  the  reader, 
before  actually  starting  from  Aralykh,  to 
equip  himself  with  the  following  elemen- 
tary facts  and  considerations  in  connection 
with  the  country  which  surrounds  Ararat, 
and  with  the  mountain  itself. 

Ararat  rises  from  the  table-land  of  Ar- 
menia, between  the  Black  and  Caspian 
Seas,  in  the  country  comprised  within  a 
triangle  between  the  Lakes  of  Sevanga, 
Urumia,  and  Van.  At  the  eastern  extrem- 
ity of  the  long  and  narrow  range  which  is 
known  in  the  country  under  the  general 
name  of  Aghri  Dagh,  and  which  it  is  con- 
venient to  call  the  Ararat  system,  —  a  range 
which,  starting  from  the  neighborhood  of 
the  forty-second  degree  of  longitude,  bi- 

162 


TJte  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 

sects  the  plateau  from  west  to  east,  —  there 
has  been  reared  by  volcanic  agency  a  vast 
mountain  fabric  surrounded  by  plain  land 
on  all  sides  but  the  western,  and  on  that 
side  joined  to  this  Ararat  system  by  a  pass 
of  about  seven  thousand  feet.  The  Ararat 
system  and  the  fabric  of  Ararat  compose 
the  southerly  wall  of  the  vast  plain  of  the 
Araxes,  a  plain  which,  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  mountain,  has  an  elevation  of  about 
two  thousand  seven  hundred  feet.  This 
valley  of  the  Araxes  is  in  many  respects 
remarkable.  In  the  first  place,  it  sinks 
far  below  the  level  of  the  great  table-land 
of  Armenia,  to  which  it  belongs,  a  plateau 
the  higher  regions  of  which  are  situated 
at  an  elevation  of  about  seven  thousand 
feet.  Secondly,  it  is  a  valley  of  vast  ex- 
tent, offering  immense  prospects  over  a 
treeless  volcanic  country,  and  bounded  at 
great  intervals  of  space  by  mountains  of 
the  most  imposing  dimensions  and  appear- 
ance. Lastly,  it  constitutes  an  open  high- 
way from  the  countries  about  and  beyond 
the  Caspian  to  the  shores  of  the  Euxine 
and  Mediterranean  Seas.  The  northern 
border  of  this  valley,  like  the  southern, 
is  composed  of  a  single  mountain  and  a 
mountain  system.  The  line  which  is  be- 
gun on  the  west  by  the  colossal  mountain 

163 


'I' tie  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 

mass  of  Alagoz  is  continued  toward  the 
east  by  the  chains  on  the  south  of  Lake 
Sevanga.  This  correspondence  in  the  dis- 
position of  the  mountains  on  either  bor- 
der is  varied  by  a  striking  diversity  in  the 
forms,  —  the  Ararat  system,  which  faces 
Alagoz,  is  distinguished  by  jagged  peaks, 
dark  valleys,  and  abrupt  sides ;  the  Sevanga 
ranges,  on  the  other  hand,  which  you  over- 
look from  the  slopes  of  Ararat,  present  an 
outline  which  is  fretted  by  the  shapes  of 
cones  and  craters,  and  are  flanked  by  con- 
vex buttresses  of  sand.  Both  Alagoz  and 
Ararat  have  been  raised  by  volcanic  agency; 
but  while  the  giant  on  the  north  has  all  the 
clumsiness  of  a  Cyclops,  his  brother  on  the 
south  would  seem  to  personify  the  union  of 
symmetry  with  size  and  grace  with  strength. 
I  must  refrain  from  pursuing  this  train  of 
thought  farther,  content  if  the  hints  which 
it  may  have  opened  reveal  the  great  scale 
upon  which  nature  has  worked.  A  few 
measurements  may  lend  reality  to  this  some- 
what misty  conception,  and  serve  to  fix  our 
ideas.  The  pile  of  Alagoz,  rising  on  the 
left  bank  of  the  Araxes,  attains  an  elevation 
of  i  3,436  feet :  the  length  of  the  mass  may 
be  placed  at  about  thirty-five  miles;  its 
breadth  is  about  twenty-five.  The  distance 
across  the  valley  from  the  middle  slopes  of 

164 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 


.         .... 


The  Party  en  rotde. 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

Ararat  to  the  summit  of  Alagoz  is  no  less 
than  fifty-four  miles;  and  from  the  same 
point  to  the  first  spurs  of  the  Sevanga 
ranges,  about  twenty  miles.  Such  are  the 
immediate  neighbors  of  Ararat,  and  such  is 
the  extent  of  open  country  spread  like  a 
kingdom  at  his  feet. 

The  fabric  of  Ararat,  composed  of  two 
mountains  supported  by  a  common  base, 
gathers  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river,  im- 
mediately from  the  floor  of  the  plain.  The 
plain  has  at  this  point  an  elevation  of  about 
two  thousand  seven  hundred  feet.  The 
pass  which  joins  this  fabric  to  the  Ararat 
system,  to  the  range  which  it  continues,  is 
situated  at  the  back  of  the  fabric,  behind 
the  long  northwestern  slope :  the  fabric  it- 
self stands  out  boldly  and  alone  in  advance 
of  the  satellite  chain.  The  axis,  or  direc- 
tion of  the  length,  of  the  whole  fabric  is 
from  northwest  to  southeast ;  and  it  is  the 
whole  length  of  the  mountain  which  you 
see  from  the  valley  of  the  Araxes.  It  may 
be  helpful  to  analyze  in  the  briefest  man- 
ner the  outline  which  there  faces  you. 
Far  away  on  your  right,  in  the  western 
distance,  a  continuous  slope  rises  from  a 
low  cape  or  rocky  promontory,  which 
emerges  from  the  even  surface  of  the 
plain  like  a  coast  seen  from  the  sea.     The 

167 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 

length  of  this  slope  has  been  given  by 
Parrot  at  no  less  than  twenty  miles;  and 
its  gradient,  even  where  it  rises  more  per- 
ceptibly toward  the  great  dome,  is  only 
about  eighteen  degrees.  This  northwest- 
ern slope  reaches  the  region  of  perpetual 
snow  at  a  height  of  about  thirteen  thou- 
sand five  hundred  feet,  and  culminates  in 
the  summit  of  Great  Ararat,  which  imme- 
diately faces  you,  and  which  has  an  eleva- 
tion of  17,916  feet.  Although  it  yields 
in  height  to  the  peaks  of  the  Caucasus  in 
the  north,  and  to  Demavend  (19,400  feet) 
in  the  east,  nearly  five  hundred  miles  away, 
yet,  as  Bryce  in  his  admirable  book  has 
observed,  there  can  be  but  few  other  places 
in  the  world  where  a  mountain  so  lofty 
rises  from  a  plain  so  low.  The  summit 
of  Great  Ararat  has  rhe  form  of  a  dome, 
and  is  covered  with  perpetual  snow.  This 
dome  crowns  an  oval  figure,  the  length  of 
which  is  from  northwest  to  southeast ;  and 
it  is  therefore  the  long  side  of  this  dome 
which  you  see  from  the  valley  of  the 
A  raxes.  On  the  southeast,  as  you  follow 
the  outline  farther,  the  slope  falls  at  a 
more  rapid  gradient  of  from  thirty  to 
thirty-five  degrees,  and  ends  in  the  saddle 
between  the  two  mountains  at  a  height 
of  nearly  nine  thousand  feet.      From  that 

168 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 


The  Dome  of  A  rarat  as  seen  above  Sardar-Bulakh 
at  a  height  of  about  g,ooo  feet 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

point  it  is  the  shape  of  the  Little  Ararat 
which  continues  the  outline  toward  the 
east ;  it  rises  in  the  shape  of  a  graceful 
pyramid  to  the  height  of  12,840  feet,  and 
its  summit  is  distant  from  that  of  Great 
Ararat  a  space  of  nearly  seven  miles.  The 
southeastern  slope  of  the  Lesser  Ararat  cor- 
responds to  the  northwestern  slope  of  the 
greater  mountain,  and  descends  to  the  floor 
of  the  river  valley  in  a  long  and  regular 
train.  The  unity  of  the  whole  fabric,  the 
intimate  correspondence  of  the  parts  be- 
tween themselves ;  in  a  word,  the  archi- 
tectural qualities  of  this  natural  work,  at 
once  impress  the  eye,  and  continue  to  pro- 
vide an  inexhaustible  fund  of  study,  how- 
ever long  may  be  the  period  of  your  stay. 

Although  the  mountain  is  due  to  vol- 
canic agency,  yet  the  fires  have  not  been 
seen  during  the  historical  period.  A  glance 
at  the  photographs  will  show  that  the  sur- 
face presents  all  the  characteristics  of  a  very 
ancient  volcano.  On  the  northeastern  side, 
in  full  view  of  the  Araxes  valley,  the  very 
heart  of  Ararat  has  been  exposed  by  the 
great  earthquake  of  1840  following  for- 
mer landslips ;  a  broad  cleft  extends  from 
base  to  summit,  and  is  known  as  the  chasm 
of  Arguri. 

The  fame  of  having  been   the  first  to 
171 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rami 

scale  Ararat  belongs  to  the  Russian  trav- 
eller Parrot,  who  made  the  ascent  in  1  829. 
Since  that  time  the  number  of  successful 
ascents  has  been,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able 
to  determine,  fourteen,  including  our  own. 
Of  this  total  of  fifteen  the  credit  of  eight 
belongs  to  Russia,  while  five  fall  to  Eng- 
land, one  to  Germany,  and  one  to  the 
United  States  of  America.      h  F  b  1 


The  sun  had  already  risen  as  I  let  myself 
down  through  the  open  casement  of  the 
window  and  dropped  into  the  garden  among 
the  dry  brushwood  encumbering  its  sandy 
floor.  Not  a  soul  was  stirring,  and  not  a 
sound  disturbed  the  composure  of  an  East- 
ern morning,  the  great  world  fulfilling  its 
task  in  silence,  and  all  nature  sedate  and 
serene.  A  narrow  strip  of  plantation  runs 
at  the  back  of  Aralykh,  on  the  south,  sus- 
tained by  ducts  from  the  Kara  Su  or  Black- 
water,  a  stream  which  leads  a  portion  of  the 
waters  of  the  Araxes  into  the  cotton-fields 
and  marshes  which  border  the  right  bank. 
Within  this  fringe  of  slim  poplars,  and 
just  on  its  southern  verge,  there  is  a  little 
mound  and  an  open  summer-house, — -as 
pleasant  a  place  as  it  is  possible  to  imagine, 
but  which,  perhaps,  only  differs  from  other 

172 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

summer-houses  in  the  remarkable  situation 
which  it  occupies,  and  in  the  wonderful 
view  which  it  commands.  It  is  placed  on 
the  extreme  foot  of  Ararat,  exactly  on  the 
line  where  all  inclination  ceases  and  the 
floor  of  the  plain  begins.  It  immediately 
faces  the  summit  of  the  larger  mountain, 
bearing  about  southwest.  Before  you  the 
long  outline  of  the  Ararat  fabric  fills  the 
southern  horizon  ;  the  gentle  undulations 
of  the  northwestern  slope,  as  it  gathers  from 
its  lengthy  train  ;  the  bold  bastions  of  the 
snow-fields  rising  to  the  rounded  dome ; 
and,  farther  east,  beyond  the  saddle,  where 
the  two  mountains  commingle,  the  needle 
form  of  the  Lesser  Ararat,  free  at  this  sea- 
son from  snow.  Yet,  although  Aralykh 
lies  at  the  flank  of  Ararat,  confronting  the 
side  which  mounts  most  directly  from  the 
plain  to  the  roof  of  snow,  the  distance 
from  a  perpendicular  line  drawn  through 
the  summit  is  over  sixteen  miles.  Through- 
out that  space  the  fabric  is  always  rising  to- 
ward the  snowbank  fourteen  thousand  feet 
above  our  heads,  with  a  symmetry,  and,  so 
to  speak,  with  a  rhythm  of  structure,  which 
holds  the  eye  in  spell.  First,  there  is  a  belt 
of  loose  sand,  about  two  miles  in  depth, 
beginning  on  the  margin  of  marsh  and  ir- 
rigation, and  seen  from  this  garden,  which 

173 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 


The  Summit,  Viewed  from  a  Height  of  13,000  Feet. 

directly  aligns  it,  like  the  sea-bed  from  a 
grove  on  the  shore.  On  the  ground  of 
yellow  thus  presented  rests  a  light  tissue 
of  green,  consisting  of  the  sparse  bushes  of 
the  ever-fresh  camelthorn,  a  plant  which 
strikes  down  into  beds  of  moisture  deep- 
seated  beneath  the  surface  of  the  soil. 
Although  it  is  possible,  crossing  this  sand- 
zone,  to  detect  the  growing  slope,  yet  this 
feature  is  scarcely  perceptible  from  Ara- 
lykh,  whence  its  smooth,  unbroken  surface 
and  cool  relief  of  green  suggest  the  appear- 
ance of  an  embroidered  carpet  spread  at  the 
threshhold  of  an  Eastern  temple  for  the 
services  of  prayer.      Beyond  this  band  or 

174 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

belt  of  sandy  ground,  composed,  no  doubt, 
of  a  pulverized  detritus  which  the  piety  of 
Parrot  was  quick  to  recognize  as  a  leaving 
of  the  Flood,  the  broad  and  massive  base  of 
Ararat  sensibly  gathers  and  inclines,  seared 
by  the  sinuous  furrows  of  dry  watercourses, 
and  stretching,  uninterrupted  by  any  step  or 
obstacle,  hill  or  terrace  or  bank,  to  the  veil 
of  thin  mist  which  hangs  at  this  hour 
along  the  higher  seams.  Not  a  patch  of 
verdure,  not  a  streak  of  brighter  color, 
breaks  the  long  monotony  of  ochre  in  the 
burnt  grass  and  the  bleached  stones.  All 
the  subtle  sensations  with  which  the  living 
earth  surrounds  us  —  wide  as  are  the  tracts 
of  barren  desert  within  the  limits  of  the 
plain  itself — seem  to  stop  arrested  at  the 
fringe  of  this  plantation,  as  on  a  magician's 
line.  When  the  vapors  obscuring  the  mid- 
dle slopes  of  the  mountain  dissolve  and  dis- 
appear, you  see  the  shadowed  jaws  of  the 
great  chasm,  —  the  whole  side  of  the  moun- 
tain burst  asunder,  from  the  cornice  of  the 
snow-roof  to  the  base,  the  base  itself  de- 
pressed and  hollow  throughout  its  width 
of  about  ten  miles.  No  cloud  has  yet 
climbed  to  the  snows  of  the  summit  shin- 
ing in  the  brilliant  blue. 

It   was   the   morning   of   the    17th    of 
September,  a  period  of  the  year  when  the 

175 


Tlu  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 


heat  has  moderated  ;  when  the  early  air, 
even  in  the  plain  of  the  Araxes,  has  ac- 
quired a  suggestion  of  crispness,  and  the 
sun  still  overpowers  the  first  symptoms  of 
winter  chills.*  The  tedious  arrangements 
of  Eastern  travel  occupied  the  forenoon  ; 
and  it  had  been  arranged  that  we  should 
dine  with  our  host,  the  lieutenant,  before 
making  the  final  start.  Six  little  hacks, 
impressed  in  the  district,  and  sadly  want- 
ing in  flesh,  were  loaded  with  our  effects ; 
our  party  was  mounted  on  Cossack  horses, 
which,  by  the  extreme  courtesy  of  the 
Russian  authorities,  had  been  placed  at  our 
disposal  for  a  week.  We  took  leave  of  our 
new  friend  under  a  strong  sentiment  of 
gratitude  and  esteem ;  but  a  new  and  pleas- 
urable surprise  was  awaiting  us  as  we  passed 
down  the  neat  square.  All  the  Cossacks 
at  that  time  quartered  in  Aralykh  —  the 
greater  number  were  absent  on  the  slopes 
of  the  mountain,  serving  the  usual  patrols 
—  had  been  drawn  up  in  marching  order, 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  their  colonel,  who 
had  contrived  to  keep  the  secret  by  express- 
ing his  willingness  to  accompany  us  a  few 
versts  of  the  way.     My  cousin  and  I  were 


*  At  Aralykh  the  thermometer  ranged  between  6o°and  700  F. 
between  the  hours  of  six  a.m.  and  nine  a.m.  on  the  several  morn- 
ings.    At  mid-day  it  rose  to  about  8o°. 

176 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 


The  Great  Chasm  of  A  rgnri. 

riding  with  the  colonel,  and  the  purpose  of 
these  elaborate  arrangements  was  explained 
to  us  with  a  sly  smile:  the  troop,  with  their 
colonel,  were  to  escort  us  on  our  first  day's 
journey,  and  to  bivouac  at  Sardar-Bulakh. 
The  order  was  given  to  march  in  half-col7 
umn.  It  was  perhaps  the  first  time  that  an 
English  officer  had  ridden  at  the  head  of 
these  famous  troops.  We  crossed  the  last 
runnel  on  the  southern  edge  of  the  planta- 
tion, and  entered  the  silent  waste. 

For  a  while  we  slowly  rode  through  the 
camelthorn,  the  deep  sand  sinking  beneath 
our  horses'  feet.  It  was  nearly  one  o'clock, 
and  the  expanse  around  us  streamed  in  the 

177 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 

full  glare  of  noon.  A  spell  seemed  to  rest 
upon  the  landscape  of  the  mountain,  seal- 
ing all  the  springs  of  life.  Only  among 
the  evergreen  shrubs  about  us  a  scattered 
group  of  camels  cropped  the  spinous  foli- 
age, little  lizards  darted,  a  flock  of  sand- 
grouse  took  wing.  Our  course  lay  slant- 
wise across  the  base  of  Ararat,  toward  the 
hill  of  Takjaltu,  a  table-topped  mass  over- 
grown with  yellow  herbage,  which  rises  in 
advance  of  the  saddle  between  the  moun- 
tains, and  lies  just  below  you  as  you  over- 
look the  landscape  from  the  valley  of 
Sardar-Bulakh.  Gullies  of  chalk,  and 
ground  strewn  with  stones,  succeed  the 
even  surface  of  the  belt  of  sand,  and  in 
turn  give  way  to  the  covering  of  burnt 
grass  which  clothes  the  deep  slope  of  the 
great  sweeping  base,  and  encircles  the  fab- 
ric with  a  continuous  stretch  of  ochre  ex- 
tending up  the  higher  seams.  Mile  after 
mile  we  rode  at  easy  paces  over  the  parched 
turf  and  the  cracking  soil.  When  we  had 
accomplished  a  space  of  about  ten  miles, 
and  attained  a  height  of  nearly  six  thou- 
sand feet,  the  land  broke  about  us  into 
miniature  ravines,  deep  gullies  strewn  with 
stones  and  bowlders,  searing  the  slope  about 
the  line  of  limit  where  the  base  may  be 
said  to  determine  and   the   higher   seams 

178 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

begin.  Winding  down  the  sides  of  these 
rocky  hollows,  one  might  turn  in  the  sad- 
dle at  a  bend  of  the  track,  and  observe  the 
long  line  of  horsemen  defiling  into  the 
ravine.  I  noticed  that  by  far  the  greater 
number  among  them  —  if,  indeed,  one 
might  not  say  all  —  were  men  in  the 
opening  years  of  manhood ;  lithe,  well- 
knit  figures,  and  fair  complexions  set  round 
with  fair  hair.  At  a  nearer  view  the  fea- 
ture which  most  impressed  me  wras  the 
smallness  of  their  eyes.  They  wear  the 
long-skirted  coat  of  Circassia,  a  thin  and 
worn  kharki ;  the  faded  pink  on  the  cloth 
of  their  shoulder-straps  relieves  the  dull 
drab.  Their  little  caps  of  Circassian  pat- 
tern fit  closely  round  their  heads.  Their 
horses  are  clumsy,  long-backed  creatures, 
wanting  in  all  the  characteristics  of  qual- 
ity ;  and  as  each  man  maintains  his  own 
animal,  few  among  them  are  shod.  Yet 
I  am  assured  that  the  breed  is  workman- 
like and  enduring,  and  I  have  known  it 
to  yield  most  satisfactory  progeny  when 
crossed  with  English  racing-blood.  As 
we  rounded  the  heap  of  grass-grown  soil, 
which  is  known  as  Takjaltu,  we  were 
joined  by  a  second  detachment  of  Cos- 
sacks coming  from  Arguri.  Together  we 
climbed  up  the  troughs  of  the  ridges  which 

179 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

sweep  fanwise  down  the  mountain  side, 
and  emerged  on  the  floor  of  the  upland 
valley  which  leads  between  the  Greater  and 
the  Lesser  Ararat,  and  crosses  the  back  of 
the  Ararat  fabric  in  a  direction  from  south- 
west to  northeast.  We  were  here  at  an 
elevation  of  7,500  feet  above  the  sea,  or 
nearly  five  thousand  feet  above  the  plain. 
Both  the  stony  troughs  and  ridges  up  which 
we  had  just  marched,  as  well  as  the  com- 
paratively level  ground  upon  which  we 
now  stood,  were  covered  with  a  scorched 
but  abundant  vegetation,  which  had  served 
the  Kurds  during  earlier  summer  as  pasture 
for  their  flocks,  and  still  sheltered  nume- 
rous coveys  of  plump  partridges,  in  which 
this  part  of  the  mountain  abounds. 

At  the  mouth  of  this  valley,  on  the 
gently  sloping  platform  which  its  even 
surface  presents,  we  marked  out  the  spaces 
of  our  bivouac,  the  pickets  for  the  horses, 
and  the  fires.  Our  men  were  acquainted 
with  every  cranny ;  we  had  halted  near  the 
site  of  their  summer  encampment,  from 
which  they  had  only  recently  descended 
to  their  winter  quarters  in  the  plain.  As 
we  dismounted  we  were  met  by  a  graceful 
figure  clad  in  a  Circassian  coat  of  brown 
material  let  in  across  the  breast  with  pink 
silk,  —  a  young  man  of  most  engaging  ap- 

180 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Arafat 


Colossal  Blocks  of  Conglomerate  Hurled  out  of  the  Chasm  of  Arguri. 

pearance  and  manners,  presented  to  us  as 
the  chief  of  the  Kurds  of  Ararat  who  own 
allegiance  to  the  Tsar.  In  the  high  refine- 
ment of  his  features,  in  the  bronzed  com- 
plexion and  soft  brown  eyes,  the  Kurd 
made  a  striking  contrast  to  the  Cossacks, — 
a  contrast  by  no  means  to  the  advantage  of 
the  Cis-Caucasian  race.  The  young  chief 
is  also  worthy  to  be  remembered  in  respect 
of  the  remarkable  name  which  he  bears. 
His  Kurdish  title  of  Shamden  Agha  has 
been  developed  and  embroidered  into  the 
sonorous  appellation  of  Hassan  Bey  Sham- 
shadinoff,  under  which  he  is  officially 
known. 

181 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 


From  the  edge  of  the  platform  upon 
which  we  were  standing  the  ground  falls 
away  with  some  abruptness  down  to  the 
base  below,  and  lends  to  the  valley  its 
characteristic  appearance  of  an  elevated 
stage  and  natural  viewing-place,  overtow- 
ered  by  the  summit  regions  of  the  dome 
and  the  pyramid,  and  commanding  all  the 
landscape  of  the  plain.  On  the  south- 
west, as  it  rises  toward  the  pass  between 
the  two  mountains,  —  a  pass  of  8,800  feet, 
leading  into  Turkish  and  into  Persian  ter- 
ritory, to  Bayazed  or  Maku,  —  the  extent 
of  even  ground  which  composes  this  plat- 
form cannot  much  exceed  a  quarter  of  a 
mile.  It  is  choked  by  the  rocky  cause- 
ways which,  sweeping  down  the  side  of 
Great  Ararat,  tumble  headlong  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  fork,  and,  taking  the  inclina- 
tion of  the  ever-widening  valley,  descend 
on  the  northwestern  skirt  of  the  platform 
in  long  oblique  curves  of  branching  troughs 
and  ridges  falling  fanwise  over  the  base. 
The  width  of  the  platform  at  the  mouth 
of  the  valley  may  be  about  three-quarters 
of  a  mile.  It  is  here  that  the  Kurds  of 
the  surrounding  region  gather,  as  the  shades 
of  night  approach,  to  water  their  flocks  at 
the  lonely  pool  which  is  known  as  the  Sar- 
dar's  well.  On  the  summit  of  the  Lesser  Ar- 


182 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

arat  there  is  a  little  lake  formed  of  melted 
snows;  the  water  permeates  the  mountain, 
and  feeds  the  Sardar's  pool.  Close  by,  at 
the  foot  of  the  lesser  mountain,  is  the 
famous  covert  of  birch,  low  bushes,  the 
only  stretch  of  wood  upon  the  fabric, 
which  is  entirely  devoid  of  trees.  The 
wood  was  soon  crackling  upon  our  fires, 
and  the  water  hissing  in  the  pots;  but  the 
wretched  pack-horses  upon  which  our  tents 
had  been  loaded  were  lagging  several  hours 
behind.  We  ourselves  had  reached  camp 
at  six  o'clock ;  it  was  after  nine  before  our 
baggage  arrived.  As  we  stretched  upon  the 
slope,  the  keen  air  of  the  summit  region 
swept  the  valley,  and  chilled  us  to  the  skin ; 
the  temperature  sank  to  below  freezing, 
and  we  had  nothing  but  the  things  in 
which  we  stood.*  Our  friends,  the  Cos- 
sack officers,  were  lavish  of  assistance ; 
they  wrapped  us  in  the  hairy  coats  of  the 
Caucasus,  placed  vodki  and  partridges  be- 
fore us,  and  ranged  us  around  their  hospit- 
able circle  beside  the  leaping  flames. 

But  the  mind  was  absent  from  the  pic- 
turesque bivouac,  and  the  eye  which  ranged 
the  deepening  shadows  was  still  dazzled  by 
the  evening  lights.     Mind  and  sense  alike 

*  The  temperature  at  6.30  p.m.  was  500  F.,  but  it  sank  rapidly 
in  the  cold  wind. 

183 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

were  saturated  with  the  beauty  and  the 
brilliance  of  the  landscape,  which,  as  you 
rise  toward  the  edge  of  the  platform  after 
rounding  the  mass  of  Takjaltu,  opens  to  an 
ever-increasing  perspective  with  ever-grow- 
ing, clearness  of  essential  features  and  mys- 
tery gathering  upon  all  lesser  forms.  The 
sun  revolving  south  of  the  zenith  lights 
the  mountains  on  the  north  of  the  plain, 
and  fills  all  the  valley  from  the  slopes  of 
Ararat  with  the  full  flood  of  its  rays,  — 
tier  after  tier  of  crinkled  hummock  ranges 
aligning  the  opposite  margin  of  the  valley 
at  a  distance  of  over  twenty  miles ;  their 
summits  fretted  with  shapes  of  cones  and 
craters,  their  faces  buttressed  in  sand,  bare 
and  devoid  of  all  vegetation,  —  yet  richly 
clothed  in  lights  and  hues  of  fairyland, 
ochres  flushed  with  delicate  madder,  ame- 
thyst shaded  opaline,  while  the  sparse  plan- 
tations about  the  river  and  the  labyrinth  of 
the  plain  insensibly  transfigure  as  you  rise 
above  them  into  an  impalpable  web  of 
gray.  In  the  lap  of  the  landscape  lies  the 
river,  a  thin,  looping  thread,  —  flashes  of 
white  among  the  shadows,  in  the  lights  a 
bright  mineral  green.  Here  and  there  on 
its  banks  you  descry  a  naked  mound,  — 
conjuring  a  vision  of  forgotten  civilizations 
and  the  buried  hives  of  man.     It  is  a  vast 

184 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

prospect  over  the  world ;  yet  vaster  far  is 
the  expanse  you  feel  about  you,  beyond 
the  limits  of  sight.  It  is  nothing  but  a 
segment  of  that  expanse,  a  brief  vista  from 
north  to  east  between  two  mountain-sides. 
On  the  north  the  slopes  of  Great  Ararat* 
hide  the  presence  of  Alagoz,  while  behind 
the  needle  form  of  Little  Ararat  all  the 
barren  chains  and  lonely  valleys  of  Persia 
are  outspread.  The  evening  grows,  and  . 
the  sun's  returning  arc  bends  behind  the 
dome  of  snow.  The  light  falls  between 
the  two  mountains,  and  connects  the  Little 
Ararat  in  a  common  harmony  with  the 
richening  tints  of  the  plain.  There  it 
stands  on  the  farther  margin  of  the  plat- 
form, the  clean,  sharp  outline  of  a  pyramid, 
clothed  in  hues  of  a  tender  yellow  seamed 
with  violet  veins.  At  its  feet,  where  its 
train  sweeps  the  floor  of  the  river  valley 
in  long  and  regular  folds,  —  far  away  in 
the  east,  toward  the  mists  of  the  Caspian, 
—  the  sandy  ground  breaks  into  a  troubled 
surface  like  angry  waves  set  solid  under  a 
spell,  and  from  range  to  range  stretch 
a  chain  of  low  white  hummocks  like 
islands  across  a  sea.  Just  there  in  the  dis- 
tance, beneath  the  Little  Ararat,  you  see 
a  patch  of  shining  white,  so  vivid  that  it 
presents  the  appearance  of  a  glacier  set  in 

185 


1  he  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 


the  burnt  waste.  It  is  probably  caused  by 
some  chemical  efflorescence  resting  on  the 
dry  bed  of  a  lake.  All  the  landscape  reveals 
the  frenzy  of  volcanic  forces  fixed  forever 
in  an  imperishable  mould;  the  imagination 
plays  with  the  forms  of  distant  castles  and 
fortresses  of  sand.  Alone  the  slopes  about 
you  wear  the  solid  colors,  and  hold  you  to 
the  real  world,  —  the  massive  slopes  of 
Great  Ararat  raised  high  above  the  world. 
The  wreath  of  cloud  which  veils  the  sum- 
mit till  the  last  breath  of  warm  air  dies, 
has  floated  away  in  the  calm  heaven  be- 
fore the  western  lights  have  paled.  Behind 
the  lofty  piles  of  rocky  causeways,  con- 
cealing the  higher  seams,  rises  the  imme- 
diate roof  of  Ararat,  foreshortened  in  the 
sky,  the  short  side  or  gable  of  the  dome, 
a  faultless  cone  of  snow. 

When  we  drew  aside  the  curtain  of  our 
tent  next  morning,  full  daylight  was  stream- 
ing over  the  open  upland  valley,  and  the 
vigorous  air  had  already  lost  its  edge.* 
The  sun  had  risen  high  above  the  Sevanga 
ranges,  and  swept  the  plain  below  us  of 
the  lingering  vapors  which  at  morning 
cling,  like  shining  wool,  to  the  floor  of 
the  river-valley,  or  float  in  rosy  feathers 
against  the  dawn.      The  long-backed  Cos- 

*  Temperature,  10.15  A-M->  72°  F. 
186 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 


sack  horses  had  been  groomed  and  watered 
and  picketed  in  line  ;  the  men  were  sitting 
smoking  in  little  groups,  or  were  strolling 
about  the  camp  in  pairs.  A  few  Kurds, 
who  had  come  down  with  milk  and  pro- 
visions, stood  listlessly  looking  on,  the  beak- 
nose  projecting  from  the  bony  cheeks,  the 
brown  chest  opening  from  the  many-col- 
ored tatters  draped  about  the  shoulders  and 
waist.  The  space  of  level  ground  between 
the  two  mountains  cannot  much  exceed 
three-quarters  of  a  mile.  On  the  east  the 
graceful  seams  of  Little  Ararat  rise  im- 
mediately from  the  slope  upon  our  right, 
gathering  just  beyond  the  cover  of  low 
birchwood,  and  converging  in  the  form 
of  a  pyramid  toward  a  summit  which  has 
been  broken  across  the  point.  The  plat- 
form of  this  valley  is  a  base  for  Little 
Ararat,  the  rib  on  the  flank  of  the  greater 
mountain  from  which  the  smaller  proceeds. 
So  sharp  are  the  lines  of  the  Little  Ararat, 
so  clean  the  upward  slope,  that  the  summit, 
when  seen  from  this  pass  or  saddle,  seems 
to  rise  as  high  in  the  heaven  above  as  the 
dome  of  Great  Ararat  itself.  The  burnt 
grass  struggles  toward  the  little  birch  cov- 
er, but  scarcely  touches  the  higher  seams. 
The  mountain-side  is  broken  into  a  loose 
rubble;  deep  gullies  sear  it  in  perpendic- 

187 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

ular  furrows,  which  contribute  to  the  im- 
pression of  height.  The  prevailing  color 
of  the  stones  is  a  bleached  yellow,  verging 
upon  a  delicate  pink  ;  but  these  paler  strata 
are  divided  by  veins  of  bluish  andesite, 
pointing  upward  like  spear-heads  from 
the  base. 

Very  different  on  the  side  of  Great  Ara- 
rat are  the  shapes  which  meet  the  eye. 
We  are  facing  the  southeastern  slope  of 
the  mountain,  the  slope  which  follows  the 
direction  of  its  axis,  the  short  side  or  ga- 
ble of  the  dome.  In  the  descending  train 
of  the  giant  volcano  this  valley  is  but  an 
incidental  or  lesser  feature  ;  yet  it  marks, 
and  in  a  sense  determines,  an  important 
alteration  in  the  disposition  of  the  surface 
forms.  It  is  here  that  the  streams  of 
molten  matter  descending  the  mountain- 
side have  been  arrested,  and  deflected  from 
their  original  direction  to  fall  over  the  mas- 
sive base.  The  dam  or  obstacle  which  has 
produced  this  deviation  is  the  sharp  harmo- 
nious figure  of  the  Lesser  Ararat,  emerging 
from  the  sea  of  piled-up  bowlders,  and 
cleaving  the  chaos  of  troughs  and  ridges 
like  the  Hfty  prow  of  a  ship.  The  course 
of  these  streams  of  lava  is  signalized  by 
these  caaseways  of  agglomerate  rocks; 
you  may  follow  from  a  point  of  vantage 

188 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

upon  the  mountain  the  numerous  branches 
into  which  they  have  divided,  to  several 
parent  or  larger  streams.  On  this  side  of 
Ararat  they  have  been  turned  in  an  oblique 
direction,  from  the  southeast  toward  the 
northeast ;  and  they  skirt  the  western  mar- 
gin of  the  little  valley,  curving  outward  to 
the  river  and  the  plain.  It  is  just  beneath 
the  first  of  these  walls  of  loose  bowlders  that 
our  two  little  tents  are  pitched  ;  beyond  it 
you  see  another  and  yet  another  still  higher, 
and  above  them  the  dome  of  snow. 

The  distance  from  this  valley  to  the 
summit  of  Great  Ararat,  if  we  measure 
upon  the  survey  of  the  Russian  Govern- 
ment along  a  horizontal  line,  is  rather 
over  five  miles.  The  confused  sea  of 
bowlders,  of  which  I  have  just  described 
the  nature,  extends,  according  to  my  own 
measurements,  to  a  height  of  about  twelve 
thousand  feet.  Above  that  zone,  so  ardu- 
ous to  traverse,  lies  the  summit  region  of 
the  mountain,  robed  in  perpetual  snow. 
From  whatever  point  you  regard  that  sum- 
mit on  this  southeastern  side,  the  appear- 
ance of  its  height  falls  short  of  reality  in 
a  most  substantial  degree.  Not  only  does 
the  curve  of  the  upward  slope  lend  itself 
to  a  most  deceitful  foreshortening  when 
you  follow  it  from  below,  but  indeed  the 

189 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 

highest  point  or  crown  of  the  dome  is  in- 
visible from  this  the  gable  side. 

If  you  strike  a  direct  course  from  the 
encampment  toward  the  roof  of  snow,  and 
crossing  the  grain  of  successive  walls  and 
depressions,  emerge  upon  some  higher 
ridge,  the  numerous  ramifications  of  the 
lava  system  may  be  followed  to  their  source, 
and  are  seen  to  issue  from  larger  causeways, 
which  rise  in  bold  relief  from  the  snows 
of  the  summit  region,  and  open  fanwise 
down  the  higher  slopes.  In  shape  these 
causeways  may  be  said  to  resemble  the 
sharp  side  of  a  wedge  :  the  massive  base 
from  which  the  bank  rises  narrows  to  a 
pointed  spine.  As  the  eye  pursues  the 
circle  of  the  summit  where  it  vanishes  to- 
ward the  north,  these  ribs  of  rock  which 
radiate  down  the  mountain  diminish  in 
volume  and  relief.  Their  sharp  edges 
commence  to  cut  the  snowy  canopy  about 
three  thousand  feet  below  the  dome.  It 
is  rather  on  the  southeastern  side  of  Ararat, 
the  side  which  faces  the  Little  Ararat  and 
follows  the  direction  of  the  axis  of  the  fab- 
ric,—  the  line  upon  which  the  forces  have 
acted  by  which  the  whole  fabric  has  been 
reared,  —  that  a  formation  so  characteristic 
of  the  surface  of  the  summit  region  attains 
its  highest  development  in  a  phenomenon 

190 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 


%, 


Lesser  Ararat  as  it  appeared  just  before  reaching  Sardar-  Bulakh. 

which  at  once  arrests  the  eye.  At  a  height 
of  about  fourteen  thousand  feet  a  causeway 
of  truly  gigantic  proportions  breaks  abrupt- 
ly from  the  snow.  The  head  of  the  ridge 
is  bold  and  lofty,  and  towers  high  above 
the  snow-slope,  with  steep  and  rocky  sides. 
The  ridge  itself  is  in  form  a  wedge  or  tri- 
angle cut  deep  down  into  the  side  of  the 
mountain,  and  marked  along  the  spine  by 
a  canal-shaped  depression  which  accentu- 
ates the  descending  curve.  The  zone  of 
troughs  and  ridges  which  you  are  now 
crossing  has  its  origin  in  this  parent  ridge; 

191 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 

you  see  it  sweeping  outward,  away  from 
Little  Ararat,  and  dividing  into  branches, 
and  systems  of  branches,  as  it  reaches  the 
lower  slopes.  Whether  its  want  of  con- 
nection with  the  roof  of  Ararat,  or  the 
inherent  characteristics  of  its  uppermost 
end,  are  sufficient  evidence  to  justify  the 
supposition  of  Abich,  that  this  ridge  at  its 
head  marks  a  separate  eruptive  centre  on 
the  flank  of  Ararat,  I  am  not  competent 
adequately  to  discuss.  I  can  only  observe, 
that  another  explanation  does  not  appear 
difficult  to  find  :  it  may  be  possible  that 
the  ridge  where  it  narrows  to  the  summit 
has  been  fractured  and  swept  away.  This 
peak,  or  sharp  end  of  the  causeway,  to 
whatever  causes  its  origin  may  be  ascribed, 
is  a  distinguishing  feature  on  the  slope  of 
Ararat,  seen  far  and  wide  like  a  tooth  or 
hump  or  shoulder  on  this  the  southeastern 
side.  Although  the  most  direct  way  to 
the  summit  region  leads  immediately  across 
the  zone  of  bowlders  from  the  camp  by 
the  Sardar's  pool,  yet  it  is  not  that  which 
most  travellers  have  followed,  or  which  the 
natives  of  the  district  recommend.  This 
line  of  approach,  which  I  followed  for 
some  distance  a  few  days  after  our  ascent, 
is  open  to  the  objection  that  it  is  no  doubt 
more  difficult  to  scale  the  slope  of  snow 

192 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

upon  this  side.  The  tract  of  uncovered 
rocks  which  breaks  the  snow-fields,  offer- 
ing ladders  to  the  roof  of  the  dome,  is 
situated  farther  to  the  southeast  of  the 
mountain,  above  the  neck  of  the  valley 
of  the  pool.  Whether  it  would  not  be 
more  easy  to  reach  these  ladders  by  skirt- 
ing slantwise  from  the  higher  slopes  is  a 
question  which  is  not  in  itself  unreason- 
able, and  which  only  actual  experience 
will  decide.  It  was  in  this  manner,  I 
believe,  that  the  English  traveller,  Bryce, 
—  now  the  well-known  writer  upon  the 
American  Commonwealth,  and  a  statesman 
of  great  authority  and  weight,  —  made  an 
ascent  which,  as  a  feat,  is,  I  think,  the 
most  remarkable  of  any  of  the  recorded 
climbs.  Starting  from  the  pool  at  one 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  reached  the 
summit  alone  at  about  two  in  the  after- 
noon, accomplishing,  within  a  space  of 
about  six  hours,  the  last  five  thousand  feet, 
and  returning  to  the  point  from  which  he 
started  before  sunrise  on  the  following  day. 
We  ourselves  wei*e  advised  to  follow  up  the 
valley,  keeping  the  causeways  upon  our 
right;  and  only  then,  when  we  should  have 
reached  a  point  about  southeast  of  the  sum- 
mit, to  strike  across  the  belt  of  rock. 
At  twenty  minutes  before  two  on  the 
193 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

1 8  th  of  September,  our  little  party  left 
camp  in  marching  order,  all  in  the  pride 
of  health  and  spirits,  and  eager  for  the  at- 
tack. Thin  wreaths  of  cloud  wrapped  the 
snows  of  the  summit,  the  jealous  spell  which 
baffles  the  bold  lover,  even  when  he  already 
grasps  his  prize.  We  had  taken  leave  of 
the  Cossack  officers  and  their  band  of  light- 
hearted  men.  Our  friends  were  returning 
to  Arguri  and  Aralykh ;  the  one  body  to 
hunt  the  Kurds  of  the  frontier,  the  other 
to  languish  in  dull  inactivity  until  their 
turn  shall  come  round  again.  Four  Cos- 
sacks were  deputed  to  remain  and  guard 
our  camp ;  we  ourselves  had  decided  to 
dispense  with  any  escort,  and  to  trust  to 
our  Kurdish  allies.  Of  these,  ten  sturdy 
fellows  accompanied  us  as  porters,  to  carry 
our  effects,  their  rifles  slung  over  their 
many-colored  tatters  beside  the  burden 
allotted  to  each.  With  my  cousin  and 
myself  were  the  young  Swiss,  Rudolph 
Taugwalder,  a  worthy  example  of  his  race 
and  profession,  —  the  large  limbs,  the  rosy 
cheeks,  the  open  mien  without  guile,  — 
and  young  Ernest  Wesson,  fresh  from  the 
Polytechnic  in  London,  whom  I  had 
brought  to  develop  my  photographs,  and 
who  rendered  me  valuable  assistance  in 
my   photographic   work.      My   Armenian 

194 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

dragoman  followed  as  best  he  was  able, 
until  the  camp  at  the  snow  was  reached ; 
his  plump  little  figure  was  not  well  adapted 
to  toil  over  the  giant  rocks.  Of  our  num- 
ber was  also  an  Armenian  from  Arguri, 
who  had  tendered  his  services  as  guide ; 
he  was  able  to  indicate  a  place  for  our 
night's  encampment,  but  he  did  not  ven- 
ture upon  the  slope  of  snow. 

A  little  stream  trickles  down  the  valley, 
but  sinks  exhausted  at  this  season  before 
reaching  the  Sardar's  well.  In  the  early 
summer  it  is  of  the  volume  of  a  torrent, 
which  winds  past  the  encampment  like  a 
serpent  of  silver,  uttering  a  dull,  rumbling 
sound.*  It  is  fed  by  the  water  from  the 
snow-fields,  and  there  is  said  to  be  a  spring 
which  contributes  to  support  it  at  a  height 
of  nearly  eleven  thousand  feet."j~  After 
half  an  hour's  walk  over  the  stony  sur- 
face of  the  platform  and  the  ragged  herb- 
age burnt  yellow  by  the  sun,  we  entered 
the  narrows  of  the  mountain  saddle,  and 
followed  the  dry  bed  of  this  rivulet  at 
the  foot  of  rocky  spurs.  The  tufts  of 
sappy  grass,  which  were  sparsely  studded 
on  the  margin  of  the  watercourse,  gave 


*  Madame  B.  Chantre,  in  "  Tour  du  Monde  "  for  1892,  p.  184. 
t  Markoff :  "  Ascension  du  Grand  Ararat,"  in  Bulletin  de  la 
Soc.  Roy  ale  Beige  de  Geograpkie,  Brussels,  1888,  p.  579. 

195 


Tlie  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 


place,  as  we  advanced,  to  a  continuous 
carpet  of  soft  and  verdant  turf;  here  and 
there  the  eye  rested  on  the  deep  green  of 
the  juniper,  or  the  graceful  fretwork  of  a 
wild-rose  tree  quivered  in  the  draught. 
The  warm  rays  flashed  in  the  thin  atmos- 
phere, and  tempered  the  searching  breeze. 
The  spurs  on  our  right  descend  from  the 
shoulder,  and  from  the  causeway  of  which 
it  forms  the  head,  and  are  seen  to  diverge 
into  two  systems  as  they  enter  the  narrow 
pass.  The  one  group  pushes  forward  to  the 
Little  Ararat,  arfd  is  lost  in  confused  detail  • 
the  other,  and  perhaps  the  larger,  system 
bends  boldly  along  the  side  of  the  valley, 
sweeping  outwards  toward  the  base.  At 
three  o'clock  we  reached  a  large  pool  of 
clouded  water  collected  on  a  table  surface 
of  burnt  grass ;  close  by  is  an  extensive  bed 
of  nettles  and  a  circle  of  loose  stones.  This 
spot  is  no  doubt  the  site  of  a  Kurdish  en- 
campment, and  appeared  to  have  been  only 
recently  abandoned  by  the  shepherds  and 
their  flocks.  The  farther  we  progressed, 
the  more  the  prospect  opened  over  the 
slopes  of  Ararat  ;  we  were  approaching 
the  level  of  the  lofty  ridges  which  skirt 
the  valley  side.  Passing,  as  we  now  were, 
between  the  two  Ararats,  we  remarked 
that  the  greater  seemed   no   higher  than 

196 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 


the  lesser,  so  completely  is  the  eye  de- 
ceived. In  the  hollows  of  the  gully,  there 
were  little  pools  of  water,  but  the  stream 
itself  was  dry. 

By  half-past  three  we  had  left  the  gentle 
watercourse,  and  were  winding  inwards  up 
the  slope  of  Great  Ararat,  to  cross  the  black 
and  barren  region,  the  girdle  of  sharp  crags 
and  slippery  bowlders  drawn  deep  about 
the  upper  seams  of  the  mountain  like  a  suc- 
cession of  chevaux-de-frise .  We  thought  it 
must  have  been  on  some  other  side  of 
Ararat  that  the  animals  descended  from 
the  Ark.  For  a  space  of  more  than  three 
hours  we  labored  on  over  a  chaos  of  rocks, 
through  a  labyrinth  of  ridges  and  troughs, 
picking  a  path,  and  as  often  retracing  it, 
or  scrambling  up  the  polished  sides  of  the 
larger  blocks  which  arrest  the  most  crafty 
approach.  The  Kurds,  although  sorely 
taxed  by  their  burdens,  were  at  an  advan- 
tage compared  to  ourselves;  they  could  slip 
like  cats  from  ledge  to  ledge  in  their  laced 
slippers  of  hide.  In  one  place  we  passed  a 
gigantic  heap  of  bowlders  towering  several 
hundred  feet  above  our  heads.  The  rock 
is  throughout  of  the  same  character  and 
color,  —  an  andesitic  lava  of  a  dark  slaty 
hue.  A  little  later  we  threaded  up  a  ra- 
vine or  gully,  and  after  keeping  for  a  while 

199 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

to  the  bottom  of  the  depression,  climbed 
slowly  along  the  back  of  the  ridge.  I  no- 
ticed that  the  grain  or  direction  of  the 
formation  lay  toward  east-southeast.  From 
the  head  of  this  ravine  we  turned  into  a 
second,  by  a  natural  gap  or  pass  ;  loose 
rocks  were  piled  along  the  sides  of  the  hol- 
low, which  bristled  with  fantastic  shapes. 
Here  a  seated  group  of  camels  seemed  to 
munch  in  silence  on  the  line  of  fading 
sky,  or  the  knotty  forms  of  lifeless  willows 
stretched  a  menace  of  uplifted  arms.  In 
the  sheltered  laps  of  this  higher  region, 
as  we  approached  our  journey's  end,  the 
snow  still  lay  in  ragged  patches,  increasing 
in  volume  and  depth.  .  .  .  The  surface 
cleared,  the  view  opened  ;  we  emerged 
from  the  troubled  sea  of  stone.  Beyond  a 
lake  of  snow  and  a  stretch  of  rubble,  rose 
the  ghostly  sheet  of  the  summit  region 
holding  the  last  glimmer  of  day. 

It  was  seven  o'clock,  and  we  had  no 
sooner  halted  than  the  biting  frost  numbed 
our  limbs.*  The  ground  about  us  was  not 
uneven,  but  an  endless  crop  of  pebbles 
filled  the  plainer  spaces  between  little  capes 
of  embedded  rock.  At  length,  upon  the 
margin  of  the  snow-lake,  we  found  a  tiny 

*  Temperature  at  8  p.m.  iS°  F.,  and  next  morning  at  5.45 

A.M.,  28°  F. 

200 


The  Ascent  o/  Mount  Ararat 

tongue  of  turf-grown  soil,  just  sufficient  em- 
placement to  hold  the  flying  tent  which  we 
had  brought  for  the  purpose  of  this  lofty 
bivouac  near  the  line  of  continuous  snow. 
We  were  five  to  share  the  modest  area 
which  the  sloping  canvas  enclosed,  yet  the 
temperature  in  the  tent  sank  below  freez- 
ing before  the  night  was  done.  Down  the 
slope  beside  us,  the  snow-water  trickled  be- 
neath a  thin  covering  of  ice.  The  sheep- 
skin coats  which  we  had  brought  from 
Aralykh  protected  us  from  chill,  but  the 
hardy  Kurds  slept  in  their  seamy  tatters 
upon  the  naked  rocks  around.  One  among 
them  sought  protection  as  the  cold  became 
intenser,  and  we  wrapped  him  in  a  warm 
cape.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  passed  the 
night  at  so  great  an  elevation, —  12,194 
feet  above  the  sea ;  and  it  is  possible  that 
the  unwonted  rarity  of  the  atmosphere  con- 
tributed to  keep  us  awake.  But  whether 
it  arose  from  the  conditions  which  sur- 
rounded us,  or  from  a  nervous  state  of 
physical  excitement  inspired  by  our  enter- 
prise, not  one  among  us,  excepting  the 
dragoman,  succeeded  in  courting  sleep. 
That  plump  little  person  had  struggled  on 
bravely  to  this,  his  farthest  goal ;  and  his 
heavy  breathing  fell  upon  the  silence  of 
the  calm,  transparent  night. 


201 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

■ 


Panorama  of  Mount  Ararat, 

The  site  of  our  camp  below  the  snow- 
line marks  a  new  stage  or  structural  divis- 
ion in  the  fabric  of  Ararat.  Of  these 
divisions,  which  differ  from  one  another 
not  only  in  the  characteristics  presented 
by  each  among  them,  but  also  in  the  gra- 
dient of  slope,  it  is  natural  to  distinguish 
three.  We  are  dealing  in  particular  with 
that  section  of  the  mountain  which  lies 
between  Aralykh  and  the  summit,  and 
with  the  features  of  the  southeastern  side. 
First  there  is  the  massive  base  of  the  moun- 
tain, about  ten  miles  in  depth,  extending 
from    the   floor   of  the   river-valley   to   a 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 


as  Viewed  from  Aralykh. 

height  of  about  six  thousand  feet.  At 
that  point  the  higher  seams  commence  to 
gather,  and  the  belt  of  rock  begins.  The 
arduous  tracts  which  we  had  just  traversed, 
where  large,  loose  blocks  of  hard  black 
lava  are  piled  up  like  a  beach,  compose 
the  upper  portion  of  this  middle  region, 
and  may  be  said  to  touch  the  lower  mar- 
gin of  the  continuous  fields  of  snow.  But 
the  line  of  contact  between  the  extremi- 
ties of  the  one  and  the  other  stage  is  by 
no  means  so  clear  and  so  definite  a  feature 
as  our  metaphor  might  lead  us  to  expect, 
and  partakes  of  the  nature  of  a  transitional 

203 


The  Ascent  of  Man  tit  Ararat 


system,  a  neutral  zone  on  the  mountain- 
side, where  the  rocky  layers  of  the  middle 
slopes  have,  not  yet  shelved  away,  nor  the 
immediate  seams  of  the  summit  region 
settled  to  their  long  climb.  In  this  sense 
the  stone-fields  about  our  encampment, 
with  their  patches  of  last  year's  snow,  are 
invested  with  the  attributes  of  a  natural 
threshold  at  the  foot  of  the  great  dome. 
The  stage  which  is  highest  in  the  struc- 
ture of  Ararat,  the  stage  which  holds  the 
dome,  has  its  origin  in  this  threshold  or 
neutral  district  at  an  altitude  which  varies 
between  twelve  thousand  and  thirteen 
thousand  feet. 

Very  different  in  character  and  in  ap- 
pearance from  the  region  we  are  leaving 
behind  is  the  slope  which  faces  our  en- 
campment robed  in  perpetual  snow.  We 
have  pursued  the  ramifications  of  the  lava 
system  to  the  side  of  their  parent  stems ; 
and  in  place  of  blind  troughs  and  prospect- 
less  ledges,  a  noble  singleness  of  feature 
breaks  upon  the  extricated  view.  We 
command  the  whole  summit  structure  of 
Ararat  on  the  short  or  gable  side,  and  the 
shape  which  rises  from  the  open  ground 
about  us  is  that  of  a  massive  cone.  The 
regular  seams  which  mount  to  the  summit 
stretch  continuous  to  the  crown  of  snow, 


204 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

and  are  inclined  at  an  angle  which  di- 
verges very  little  from  an  average  of  300. 
The  gradients  from  which  these  higher 
seams  gather,  the  slopes  about  our  camp, 
cannot  exceed  half  that  inclination,  or  an 
angle  of  1 50.  Such  is  the  outline,  so  har- 
monious and  simple,  which  a  first  glance 
reveals.  A  more  intimate  study  of  the 
summit  region  as  it  expands  to  a  closer 
view,  discloses  characteristics  which  are 
not  exactly  similar  to  those  with  which 
we  have  already  become  familiar  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Sardar-Bulakh.  It  was 
there  the  northeastern  hemisphere  of  the 
mountain  —  if  the  term  may  be  applied 
to  the  oval  figure  which  the  summit  region 
presents  —  displayed  to  the  prospect  upon 
the  segment  between  east  and  southeast. 
Our  present  position  lies  more  to  the  south- 
ward, between  the  two  hemispheres ;  we 
are  placed  near  the  axis  of  the  figure,  and 
the  roof,  as  seen  from  our  encampment, 
bears  nearly  due  northwest.  The  gigantic 
causeway  which  was  there  descending  on 
our  left  hand  from  the  distant  snows,  now 
rises  on  our  right  like  a  rocky  headland 
confronting  a  gleaming  sea  of  ice.  But 
when  the  eye  pursues  the  summit  circle 
vanishing  towards  the  west,  we  miss  the 
sister  forms  of  lesser  causeways  radiating 

205 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 

down  the  mountain-side.  It  is  true  that 
the  greater  proximity  of  our  standpoint  to 
the  foot  of  these  highest  slopes  curtails  the 
segment  of  the  circle  which  we  are  able 
to  command.  This  circumstance  is  not 
in  itself  sufficient  to  explain  the  change  in 
the  physiognomy  of  the  summit  region  as 
we  see  it  on  this  side.  In  place  of  those 
bold  black  ribs  or  ridges  spread  fan  wise 
down  the  incline,  furrowing  the  snows 
with  their  sharp  edges,  and  lined  along 
the  troughs  of  their  contiguous  bases  with 
broad  streaks  of  sheltered  neve,  it  seems  as 
if  the  fabric  had  fallen  asunder,  the  surface 
slipped  away,  all  the  flank  of  the  mountain 
depressed  and  hollow  from  our  camp  to 
the  roof  of  the  dome.  The  canopy  of 
snow  which  encircles  the  summit,  a  broad 
inviolate  bank  unbroken  by  any  rift  or  rock 
projection  for  a  depth  of  some  two  thou- 
sand feet,  breaks  sharply  off  on  the  verge 
of  this  depression,  and  leaves  the  shallow 
cavity  bare.  From  the  base  of  the  giant 
causeway  just  above  us  to  the  gently  purs- 
ing outline  of  the  roof,  you  follow  the  edge 
of  the  great  snow-field  bordering  a  rough 
and  crumbling  region  which  offers  scanty 
foothold  to  the  snow,  where  the  hollow 
slope  bristles  with  pointed  bowlders,  and 
the  bold  crags  pierce  the  ruin  around  them 

206 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

in  upstanding  comos  or  saw-shaped  ridges 
holding  slantwise  to  the  mountain-side. 
On  the  west  side  of  this  broad  and  uncov- 
ered depression,  near  the  western  extrem- 
ity of  the  cone,  a  long  strip  of  snow  descends 
from  the  summit,  caught  by  some  trough 
or  sheltering  fissure  in  the  rough  face  of 
the  cliff.  Beyond  it,  just  upon  the  sky- 
line, the  bare  rocks  reappear,  and  climb 
the  slope  like  a  natural  ladder  to  a  point 
where  the  roof  of  the  dome  is  lowest,  and 
appears  to  offer  the  readiest  access  to  the 
still  invisible  crown. 

In  the  attenuated  atmosphere  surround- 
ing the  summit,  every  foot  that  is  gained 
tells ;  an  approach  which  promises  to  ease 
the  gradient  at  the  time  when  it  presses 
most  seems  to  offer  advantages  which  some 
future  traveller,  recognizing  the  application 
of  this  description,  may  be  encouraged  to 
essay.  We  ourselves  were  influenced  in  the 
choice  of  a  principle  upon  which  to  base 
our  attack  by  the  confident  counsels  of  the 
Armenian,  which  the  local  knowledge  of 
the  Kurds  confirmed.  We  were  advised  to 
keep  to  the  eastern  margin  of  the  depres- 
sion by  the  edge  of  the  great  snow-field. 
You  see  the  brown  rocks  still  baffling  the 
snowdrifts  near  the  point  where  the  deceit- 
ful slope  appears  to  end,  where  on  the  verge 

207 


Tlie  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 


of  the  roof  it  just  dips  a  little,  then  stands 
up  like  a  low  white  wall  on  the  luminous 
ground  of  blue. 

The  troubled  sea  of  bowlders  flowing  to- 
ward the  Little  Ararat,  from  which  we  had 
just  emerged,  still  hemmed  us  in  from  any 
prospect  over  the  tracts  which  lay  below. 
The  flush  of  dawn  broke  between  the  two 
mountains  from  a  narrow  vista  of  sky.  The 
even  surface  of  the  snow  slope  loomed  white 
and  cold  above  our  heads,  while  the  night 
still  lingered  on  the  dark  stone  about  us, 
shadowing  the  little  laps  of  ice.  Before  six 
o'clock  we  were  afoot  and  ready ;  it  wanted 
a  few  minutes  to  the  hour  as  we  set  out 
from  our  camp.  To  the  Swiss  was  in- 
trusted the  post  of  leader ;  behind  him 
followed,  in  varying  order,  my  cousin  and 
Wesson  and  myself.  Slowly  we  passed  from 
the  shore  of  the  snow  lake  to  the  gathering 
of  the  higher  seams,  harboring  our  strength 
for  the  steeper  gradients,  as  we  made  across 
the  beach  of  bowlders,  stepping  firmly  from 
block  to  block.  The  broad  white  sheet  of 
the  summit  circle  descends  to  the  snow- 
lakes  of  the  lower  region  in  a  tongue  or 
gulf  of  deep  neve.  You  may  follow,  on  the 
margin  of  the  great  depression,  the  west- 
ern edge  of  this  gleaming  surface  unbroken 
down  the  side  of  the  cone.    On  the  east  the 

208 


Tlte  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 

black  wall  of  the  giant  causeway  aligns 
the  shining  slope,  invading  the  field  of  per- 
petual winter  to  a  height  of  over  14,000 
feet.  The  width  of  the  snow-field  between 
these  limits  varies  as  it  descends.  On  a  level 
with  the  shoulder  or  head  of  the  causeway 
it  appeared  to  span  an  interval  of  nearly 
two  hundred  yards.  The  depth  of  the  bed 
must  be  considerable ;  and,  while  the  sur- 
face holds  the  tread  in  places,  it  as  often 
gives,  and  lets  you  through.  No  rock  pro- 
jection or  gap  or  fissure  breaks  the  slope 
of  the  white  fairway  ;  but  the  winds  have 
raised  the  crust  about  the  centre  into  a  rib- 
bon of  tiny  waves.  Our  plan  was  to  cross 
the  stony  region  about  us,  slanting  a  little 
east,  and  then  when  we  should  have  reached 
the  edge  of  the  snow-field,  to  mount  by  the 
rocks  on  its  immediate  margin,  adhering 
as  closely  as  might  be  possible  to  the  side 
of  the  snow.  It  was  in  the  execution  of 
this  plan,  so  simple  in  its  conception,  that 
the  trained  instinct  of  the  Swiss  availed. 
Of  those  who  have  attempted  the  ascent  of 
Ararat,  —  and  their  number  is  not  large, — 
so  many  have  failed  to  reach  the  summit, 
that,  upon  a  mountain  which  makes  few, 
if  any,  demands  upon  the  resources  of  the 
climber's  craft,  their  discomfiture  must  be 
attributed  to  other  reasons,  —  to  the  pecu- 

209 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 

liar  nature  of  the  ground  traversed  no  less 
than  to  the  inordinate  duration  of  the  effort, 
to  the  wearisome  recurrence  of  the  same 
kind  of  obstacles,  and  to  the  rarity  of  the  air. 
Now  the  disposition  of  the  rocks  upon  the 
surface  of  the  depression  is  by  no  means  the 
same  as  that  which  we  have  studied  in  con- 
nection with  the  seams  which  lie  below. 
The  path  no  longer  struggles  across  a  trou- 
bled sea  of  ridges,  or  strays  within  the  blind 
recesses  of  a  succession  of  gigantic  waves 
of  stone.  On  the  other  hand,  the  gradients 
are,  as  a  rule,  steeper  ;  and  the  clearings  are 
covered  with  a  loose  rubble,  which  slips 
from  under  the  feet.  The  bowlders  are 
piled  one  upon  another  in  heaps,  as  they 
happened  to  fall ;  and  the  sequence  of  forms 
is  throughout  arbitrary,  and  subject  to  no 
fixed  law.  In  one  place  it  is  a  tower  of 
this  loose  masonry  which  blocks  all  farther 
approach,  in  another  a  solid  barrier  of  sharp 
crags  laced  together  which  it  is  necessary 
to  circumvent.  When  the  limbs  have  been 
stiffened  and  the  patience  exhausted  by  the 
long  and  devious  escalade,  the  tax  upon 
the  lungs  is  at  its  highest,  and  the  strain 
upon  the  heart  most  severe.  Many  of  the 
difficulties  which  travellers  have  encoun- 
tered upon  this  stage  of  the  climb  may  be 
avoided,  or  met  at  a  greater  advantage,  by 

210 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarut 


adhering  to  the  edge  of  the  snow.  But 
the  fulfilment  of  this  purpose  is  by  no  means 
so  easy  as  the  case  might  at  first  sight  ap- 
pear. You  are  always  winding  inwards  to 
avoid  the  heaps  of  bowlders,  or  emerging 
on  the  backs  of  gigantic  blocks  of  lava  to- 
wards the  margin  of  the  shining  slope.  In 
the  choice  of  the  most  direct  path,  where 
many  offered,  the  Swiss  was  never  at  fault ; 
he  made  up  the  cone  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  like  a  hound  threading  a  close 
cover,  and  seldom  if  ever  foiled. 

At  twenty  minutes  to  seven,  when  the 
summit  of  Lesser  Ararat  was  about  on  a 
level  with  the  eye,  we  paused  for  awhile, 
and  turned  towards  the  prospect  now  open- 
ing to  a  wider  range.  The  day  was  clear, 
and  promised  warmth  ;  above  us  the  snowy 
dome  of  Ararat  shone  in  a  cloudless  sky. 
The  landscape  on  either  side  of  the  beau- 
tiful pyramid  lay  outspread  at  our  feet ; 
from  northeast  the  hidden  shores  of  Lake 
Sevanga,  to  where  the  invisible  seas  of  Van 
and  Urumia  diffuse  a  soft  veil  of  opaline 
vapor  over  the  long  succession  of  lonely 
ranges  in  the  southeast  and  south.  The 
wild  borderland  of  Persia  and  Turkey 
here  for  the  first  time  expands  to  view. 
The  scene,  however  much  it  may  belie 
the  conception  at  a  first  and  hasty  glance, 

213 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

bears  the  familiar  imprint  of  the  charac- 
teristics peculiar  to  the  great  table-land. 
The  mountains  reveal  their  essential  nature, 
and  disclose  the  familiar  forms,  the  surface 
of  the  plateau  broken  into  long  furrows 
which  tend  to  hummock  shapes.  So  lofty 
is  the  stage,  so  aloof  this  mighty  fabric 
from  all  surrounding  forms,  the  world  lies 
dim  and  featureless  about  it  like  the  setting 
of  a  dream.  In  the  foreground  are  the 
valleys  on  the  south  of  Little  Ararat  cir- 
cling round  to  the  Araxes  floor,  and  on 
the  northeast,  beside  the  thread  of  the 
looping  river,  a  little  lake,  dropped  like 
a  turquoise  on  the  sand  where  the  moun- 
tain sweeps  the  plain. 

In  the  space  of  another  hour  we  have 
reached  an  elevation  about  equal  to  that 
of  the  head  of  the  causeway  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  snow,  a  point  which  I 
think  I  am  justified  in  fixing  at  over  four- 
teen thousand  feet.  We  are  now  no  longer 
threading  on  the  shore  of  an  inlet ;  alone 
the  vague  horizon  of  the  summit  circle  is 
the  limit  of  the  broad  white  sea.  But  on 
our  left  hand  the  snowless  region  of  rock 
and  rubble  still  accompanies  our  course, 
and  a  group  of  red  crags  stands  high  above 
us  where  the  upward  slope  appears  to  end. 

Yet  another  two  hours  of  continuous 
214 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 

climbing,  and  at  about  half-past  nine  the 
loose  bowlders  about  us  open,  and  we  are 
approaching  the  foot  of  these  crags.  The 
end  seems  near ;  but  the  slope  is  deceitful, 
and  when  once  we  have  reached  the  head 
of  the  formation  the  long  white  way  re- 
sumes. But  the  blue  vault  about  us  streams 
with  sunlight ;  the  snow  is  melting  in  the 
crannies,  a  genial  spirit  lightens  our  toil. 

And  now  without  any  sign  or  warning 
the  mysterious  spell  which  holds  the  moun- 
tain begins  to  throw  a  web  about  us,  craft- 
ily, from  below.  The  spirits  of  the  air 
come  sailing  through  the  azure  with  shin- 
ing gossamer  wings,  while  the  heavier  va- 
pors gather  around  us  from  dense  banks 
serried  upon  the  slope  beneath  us  a  thou- 
sand feet  lower  down. 

The  rocks  still  climb  the  increasing  gra- 
dient, but  the  snow  is  closing  in.  At 
eleven  we  halt  to  copy  an  inscription 
which  has  been  neatly  written  in  Russian 
characters  on  the  face  of  a  bowlder-stone. 
It  records  that  on  the  third  day  of  the 
eighth  month  of  1893  tne  expedition  led 
by  the  Russian  traveller  Postukhoff  passed 
the  night  in  this  place.  At  the  foot  of 
the  stone  lie  several  objects ;  a  bottle  rilled 
with  fluid,  an  empty  biscuit-tin,  and  a  tin 
containing  specimens  of  rock. 

215 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

At  half-past  eleven  I  take  the  angle  of 
the  snow-slope,  at  this  point  350.  About 
this  time  the  Swiss  thinks  it  prudent  to 
link  us  all  together  with  his  rope.  The 
surface  of  the  rocks  is  still  uncovered,  but 
their  bases  are  embedded  in  deep  snow. 

It  is  now,  after  six  hours  arduous  climb- 
ing, that  the  strain  of  the  effort  tells.  The 
lungs  are  working  at  the  extreme  of  their 
capacity,  and  the  pressure  upon  the  heart 
is  severe.  At  noon  I  call  a  halt,  and  re- 
lease young  Wesson  from  his  place  in  the 
file  of  four.  His  pluck  is  still  strong,  but 
his  look  and  gait  alarm  me,  and  I  persuade 
him  to  desist.  We  leave  him  to  rest  in  a 
sheltered  place,  and  there  await  our  return. 
From  this  time  on  we  all  three  suffer,  even 
the  Swiss  himself.  My  cousin  is  affected 
with  mountain  sickness ;  as  for  me,  I  find 
it  almost  impossible  to  breathe  and  climb 
at  the  same  time.  We  make  a  few  steps 
upwards,  and  then  pause  breathless,  and 
gasp  again  and  again.  The  white  slope 
vanishing  above  us  must  end  in  the  crown 
of  the  dome ;  and  the  bowlders,  strewn 
more  sparsely  before  us,  promise  a  fairer 
way.  But  the  farther  we  go  the  goal 
seems  little  closer,  and  the  shallow  snow 
resting  on  a  crumbling  rubble  makes  us 
lose   one   step   in   every  three.      A  strong 

216 


The  Asce:it  of  Mount  Ararat 

smell  of  sulphur  permeates  the  atmosphere; 
it  proceeds  from  the  sliding  surface  upon 
which  we  are  treading,  a  detritus  of  pale 
sulphurous  stones. 

At  1.25  p.m.  we  see  a  plate  of  white 
metal  affixed  to  a  cranny  in  the  rocks. 
It  bears  an  inscription  in  Russian  charac- 
ter, which  dates  from  1888.  I  neglect  to 
copy  out  the  unfamiliar  letters;  but  there 
can  be  little  doubt  that  they  record  the 
successful  ascent  of  Dr.  MarkofF,  an  ascent 
in  which  that  able  linguist  and  accom- 
plished traveller  suffered  hardships  which 
cost  him  dear. 

A  few  minutes  later,  at  half-past  one, 
the  slope  at  last  eases,  the  ground  flattens, 
the  struggling  rocks  sink  beneath  the  sur- 
face of  a  continuous  field  of  snow.  At 
last  we  stand  upon  the  summit  of  Ararat; 
but  the  sun  no  longer  pierces  the  white 
vapor.  A  fierce  gale  drives  across  the  for- 
bidden region,  and  whips  the  eye  straining 
to  distinguish  the  limits  of  snow  and  cloud. 
Vague  forms  hurry  past  on  the  wings  of 
the  whirlwind ;  in  place  of  the  landscape 
of  the  land  of  promise,  we  search  dense 
banks  of  fog. 

Disappointed,  perhaps,  but  relieved  of 
the  gradient,  and  elated  with  the  success 
of  our  climb,  we  run  in  the  teeth  of  the 


217 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 


wind  across  the  platform,  our  feet  scarcely 
sinking  in  the  storm-swept  crust  of  the 
surface,  the  gently  undulating  roof  of  the 
dome.  .  .  .  Along  the  edge  of  a  spacious 
snow-field  which  dips  towards  the  centre, 
and  is  longest  from  northwest  to  southeast, 
on  the  vaulted  rim  of  the  saucer,  which  the 
surface  resembles,  four  separate  elevations 
may  conveniently  be  distinguished  as  the 
highest  points  in  the  irregular  oval  figure 
which  the  whole  platform  appears  to  pre- 
sent. The  highest  among  these  rounded 
elevations  bears  northwest  from  the  spot 
where  we  first  touch  the  summit  or  emerge 
upon  the  roof.  That  spot  itself  marks  an- 
other of  these  inequalities  ;  the  remaining 
two  are  situated  respectively  in  this  man- 
ner,—  the  one  about  midway  between  the 
two  already  mentioned,  but  nearer  to  the 
first,  and  on  the  north  side;  the  other  about 
south  of  the  northwestern  elevation,  and 
this  seems  the  lowest  of  all.  The  differ- 
ence in  height  between  this  northwestern 
elevation  and  that  upon  the  southeast  is 
about  two  hundred  feet;  and  the  length  of 
the  figure  between  these  points  —  we  paced 
only  a  certain  portion  of  the  distance  —  is 
about  five  hundred  yards.  The  width  of 
the  platform,  so  far  as  we  could  gauge  it, 
may  be  some  three  hundred  yards.    A  sin- 

218 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

gle  object  testifies  to  the  efforts  of  our  fore- 
runners, and  to  the  insatiable  enterprise  of 
man,  —  a  stout  stake  embedded  upon  the 
northwestern  elevation  in  a  little  pyramid 
of  stones.  It  is  here  that  we  take  our 
observations  and  make  our  longest  halt.* 
Before  us  lies  a  valley  or  deep  depression, 
and  on  the  farther  side  rises  the  north- 
western summit,  a  symmetrical  cone  of 
snow.  This  summit  connects  with  the 
bold  snow  buttresses  beyond  it,  terraced 
upon  the  northwestern  slope.  The  dis- 
tance down  and  up  from  where  we  stand 
to  that  summit  may  be  about  four  hun- 
dred yards ;  but  neither  the  Swiss  nor 
ourselves  consider  it  higher,  and  we  are 
prevented  from  still  further  exploring  the 
summit  region  by  the  increasing  violence 
of  the  gale  and  by  the  gathering  gloom  of 
cloud.  The  sides  and  floor  of  the  valley  or 
saddle  between  the  two  summits  are  com- 
pletely covered  with  snow;  and  we  see  no 
trace  of  the  lateral  fissure  which  Abich  — 
no  doubt  under  different  circumstances  — 
was  able  to  observe. 


*  The  temperature  of  the  air  a  few  feet  below  the  summit, 
out  of  the  gale,  was  20°  F.  The  height  of  the  northwestern  ele- 
vation of  the  southeastern  summit  of  Ararat  is  given  by  my 
Whymper  mountain  aneroid  as  17,493  ^eet*  The  reading  is,  no 
doubt,  too  high  by  several  hundred  feet.  The  Carey  aneroid 
gives  a  still  higher  figure,  and  the  Boylean-Mariotte  mercurial 
barometer  entirely  refused  to  work. 

219 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 

We  remain  forty  minutes  upon  the  sum- 
mit; but  the  dense  veil  never  lifts  from  the 
platform,  nor  does  the  blast  cease  to  pierce 
us  through.  No  sooner  does  an  opening  in 
the  driving  vapors  reveal  a  vista  of  the 
world  below  than  fresh  levies  fly  to  the 
unguarded  interval,  and  the  wild  onset  re- 
sumes. Yet  what  if  the  spell  had  lost  its 
power,  and  the  mountain  and  the  world 
lain  bare  ?  had  the  tissue  of  the  air  beamed 
clear  as  crystal,  and  the  forms  of  earth  and 
sea,  embroidered  beneath  us,  shone  like  the 
tracery  of  a  shield  ? 

We  should  have  gained  a  balloon  view 
over  nature;  should  we  catch  her  voice  so 
well  ?  the  ancient  voice  heard  at  cool  of 
day  in  the  garden,  or  the  voice  that  spoke 
in  accents  of  thunder  to  a  world  con- 
demned to  die.  "  It  repented  the  Lord 
that  he  had  made  man,  and  it  grieved  him 
at  his  heart.  The  earth  was  filled  with 
violence.  God  looked  upon  the  earth,  and 
behold  it  was  corrupt.  In  the  second 
month,  the  seventeenth  day  of  the  month, 
the  same  day  were  all  the  fountains  of  the 
great  deep  broken  up,  and  the  windows 
of  heaven  were  opened.  And  the  rain 
was  upon  the  earth  forty  days  and  forty 
nights.,, 

We  are  standing  on  the  spot  where  the 


220 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Ararat 

Ark  of  Gopher  rested,  where  first  the  patri- 
arch alighted  on  the  face  of  an  earth  re- 
newed. Before  him  lie  the  valleys  of  six 
hundred  years  of  sorrow ;  the  airiest  pin- 
nacle supports  him,  a  boundless  hope  fills 
his  eyes  ;  the  pulse  of  life  beats  strong 
and  fresh  around  him ;  the  busy  swarms 
thrill  with  sweet  freedom,  elect  of  all  liv- 
ing things.  In  the  settling  exhalations 
stands  the  bow  of  many  colors,  eternal 
token  of  God's  covenant  with  man. 

The  peaks  which  rise  on  the  distant 
borderland  where  silence  has  first  faltered 
into  speech  are  wrapped  about  with  the 
wreaths  of  fancy,  —  a  palpable  world  of 
cloud.  Do  we  fix  our  foot  upon  these 
solid  landmarks  to  wish  the  vague  away, 
to  see  the  hard  summits  stark  and  naked, 
and  all  the  floating  realm  of  mystery  flown? 
The  truth  is  firm,  and  it  is  well  to  touch 
and  feel  it,  and  know  where  the  legend 
begins;  but  the  legend  itself  is  truth  trans- 
figured as  the  snow  distils  into  cloud.  The 
reality  of  life  speaks  in  every  syllable  of 
that  solemn,  stately  tale,  —  divine  hope 
bursting  the  bounds  of  matter  to  com- 
promise with  despair.  And  the  ancient 
mountain  summons  the  spirits  about  him, 
and  veils  a  futile  frown  as  the  rising  sun 
illumines  the  valleys  of  Asia  and  the  life  of 


221 


The  A  scent  of  Mount  A  rarat 

man  lies  bare.  The  spectres  walk  in  naked 
daylight,  —  Violence  and  Corruption  and 
Decay.  The  traveller  finds  in  majestic 
nature  consolation  for  these  sordid  scenes, 
while  a  spirit  seems  to  whisper  in  his  ears, 
"Turn  from  him!  turn  from  him,  that  he 
may  rest  till  he  shall  accomplish,  as  an 
hireling,  his  day." 


222 


CLIMBING    MOUNT   ST.  ELIAS 


By  William  Williams 


Landing  through  the  Stir/  at  Icy  Bay. 


N  1886  the  New  York  Times 
organized  an  expedition  un- 
der Lieutenant  Schwatka, 
the  main  object  of  which 
was  to  explore  the  glaciers  to 
the  southward  of  Mount  St. 
Elias,  and  ascend  the  mountain  as  far  as 
possible.  This  was  the  first  attempt  ever 
made  to  penetrate  that  part  of  Alaska.  The 
party  succeeded  in  getting  within  two  or 
three  miles  of  the  foot  of  the  mountain, 
which  lies  at  a  distance  of  about  thirty-five 
miles  from  the  sea ;  but  owing  to  the  un- 

225 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

favorable  state  of  the  weather,  combined 
with  other  causes,  all  attempts  to  ascend 
Mount  St.  Elias  proper  were  abandoned. 
Mr.  Seton-Karr,  however,  climbed  one  of 
a  chain  of  hills  situated  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  main  range.  Only  nine  or  ten  days 
were  spent  away  from  the  beach. 

In  the  spring  of  1888,  Mr.  Harold  W. 
Topham,  of  London,  came  over  to  this 
country  with  his  brother,  with  a  view  to 
getting  up  an  expedition  similar  in  its  pur- 
pose to  that  sent  out  by  the  Times.  I  was 
fortunate  in  receiving  an  invitation  to  join 
them.  Later,  a  third  Englishman,  Mr. 
George  Broke,  was  added  to  the  party;  and 
by  the  end  of  June  we  were  all  at  Sitka, 
ready  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  first  oppor- 
tunity to  proceed  north. 

The  Schwatka  party  were  spared  much 
time  and  trouble  in  getting  up  the  coast, 
as  the  U.  S.  S.  Pinta  had  received  orders 
to  carry  them  as  far  as  they  wished  to  go. 
Not  being  so  fortunate  in  this  respect,  we 
were  obliged  to  proceed  partly  by  sailing 
vessel,  partly  by  canoes.  The  only  avail- 
able vessel  was  the  Alpha,  a  very  indiffer- 
ent schooner  of  twenty-seven  tons,  which 
had  just  returned  from  a  sealing  cruise. 
After  some  delay  in  getting  her  ready,  we 
set  sail  from  Sitka  on  the  3d  of  July,  the 

226 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Rlias 


%::>    y^Pn 


STATUTE  MILES 

10      20       30     *0      60      60      70      80      90     100 


The  Alaskan  Coast  from  Mount  Fairiveather  to  Mount  St.  Elias. 


party  then  consisting  of  ourselves  and  six 
packers,  two  of  whom  were  white  men, 
and  the  remaining  four  Indians.  Though 
the  latter  are  generally  capable  of  carrying 
heavier  loads  than  white  men,  yet  we  did 
not  think  it  advisable  to  rely  on  them  al- 
together, lest  they  should  leave  us  suddenly 
in  the  lurch. 

We  were  seven  days  in  reaching  Yakutat, 
an  Indian  settlement  situated  two  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  beyond  Sitka.  (See  map 
above.)  The  voyage  was  anything  but  en- 
joyable. The  winds  were  generally  light, 
and   from   an    unfavorable    quarter,    while 


227 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

the  vessel  was  filthy.  The  cooking  was 
all  done  in  the  so-called  cabin;  and  in  or- 
der that  no  time  might  be  lost  in  starting 
the  fire,  coal-oil  was  used  freely.  There 
being  no  ventilation,  it  can  be  said  with- 
out exaggeration  that  the  air  in  the  quar- 
ters below  was  foul  during  the  whole  trip ; 
which,  as  we  suffered  more  or  less  from 
seasickness,  constituted  a  very  poor  prepa- 
ration for  the  work  that  lay  before  us. 

On  the  fourth  day  after  leaving  Sitka 
we  caught  occasional  glimpses  through  the 
clouds  of  the  Fairweather  range  of  moun- 
tains, consisting  principally  of  Mount  Fair- 
weather,  Mount  Crillon,  and  Mount  La 
Perouse.  These  peaks  rise  almost  directly 
out  of  the  sea,  two  of  them  to  a  height  of 
nearly  sixteen  thousand  feet.  I  obtained  a 
fine  view  of  them  on  the  return  trip,  and 
have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  they  pre- 
sent one  of  the  grandest  of  mountain  pano- 
ramas. Owing  partly  to  their  proximity, 
they  appear  much  finer  than  from  Glacier 
Bay,  from  which  point  many  Alaskan  tour- 
ists see  them  yearly.  Several  glaciers  de- 
scend from  their  slopes,  some  of  which,  as 
that  at  Icy  Point,  terminate  abruptly  in  the 
ocean,  their  faces,  which  are  washed  by 
the  sea,  being  about  two  miles  long.  On 
Mount   Crillon   we   noticed    in  particular 

228 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

two  icefalls  that  impressed  us  as  being  un- 
usually fine. 

Yakutat  Bay  is  the  first  indentation  of 
any  importance  above  Cross  Sound,  and 
hence  is  easily  recognized  in  clear  weather. 
The  coast  to  the  eastward  is  very  low,  and 
generally  lined  with  pine-trees.  Yakutat 
itself  is  situated  on  a  small  island  about 
five  miles  up  the  bay.  It  has  a  fairly  good 
harbor,  the  entrance  to  which  is  by  means 
of  a  channel  not  over  twenty  yards  wide. 
It  is  exclusively  an  Indian  settlement,  and 
consists  of  just  five  houses,  each  covering 
an  area  of  perhaps  thirty  square  feet.  They 
are  quite  picturesque,  a  distinctive  feature 
being  the  oval  door,  which  is  none  too 
large,  and  situated  a  foot  or  more  above 
the  outside  platform,  so  that  in  order  to 
enter,  one  must  reduce  one's  height  at  both 
ends.  The  houses  are  all  of  a  size,  and 
contain  a  large  central  space  which  serves 
both  as  parlor  and  kitchen.  Opening  out 
on  it  are  several  smaller  rooms,  which  are 
allotted  to  the  different  families.  The 
chief,  Billy,  is  quite  friendly,  and  will 
allow  one,  if  without  shelter,  to  spend 
several  days  in  his  house.  If  he  expects 
anything  in  return,  he  will  say  so  before- 
hand. 

The  inhabitants  evinced  a  sort  of  stupid 
229 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

interest  at  our  coming.  One,  "  Dick  the 
Dude,"  of  Juneau,  whom  we  had  tempo- 
rarily hired  at  Sitka,  but  soon  afterward 
discharged,  as  being  too  true  to  his  nick- 
name, had,  in  order  to  annoy  us,  sent  up 
word  of  our  arrival  by  some  Indians  who 
were  coming  north  in  canoes  to  visit  their 
friends,  stating  that  we  were  very  anxious 
to  obtain  packers,  and  were  ready  to  pay 
high  wages.  As  a  result,  the  Yakutats 
stood  out  for  three  dollars  a  day  for  some 
time.  Fortunately  we  were  not  altogether 
dependent  on  them ;  and  the  realization  of 
this  fact,  more  than  anything  else,  brought 
them  to  terms.  We  eventually  hired  two 
of  them  at  two  dollars  a  day,  and  further 
increased  our  party  by  the  addition  of  two 
more  white  men,  who  were  to  receive 
three  dollars  a  day.  We  then  numbered 
fourteen. 

The  next  stage  in  our  journey  was  from 
Yakutat  to  Icy  Bay,  situated  about  fifty- 
five  miles  to  the  northwest.  No  one, 
however,  should  be  misled  by  the  word 
"  Bay  ;  "  for,  as  we  subsequently  learned, 
the  curvature  of  the  beach  is  almost  im- 
perceptible, and  hence  offers  no  protection 
against  the  ocean  swell  which  is  constantly 
sweeping  in.  We  were  obliged  to  proceed 
thither  in  canoes,  on  account  of  the  surf 


230 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

through  which  we  had  to  land.  The 
canoes  used  along  the  Alaskan  coast  are 
"dug-outs;"  they  are  made  of  all  sizes. 
As  but  few  trees  are  of  sufficient  thickness 
to  give  the  large  ones  the  requisite  beam, 
the  sides  are  stretched,  and  made  to  retain 
their  new  position  by  means  of  water  heated 
by  stones. 

The  Indians  acted  in  a  very  aggravating 
manner  about  starting.     Not  caring  to  pad- 
dle their  canoes  fifty-five  miles,  it  was  their 
intention 
to    wait 
for  a  fair 
off-shore 
bre  e  z  e. 
Our  main 
object,  on 
the  other 
hand,  was 
to   reach 
Icy    Bay 
while  the 
surf  was 
low,   re- 
gardless of  whether  a  fair 
wind  was  blowing  or  not. 
Why  we  should   be   in   any 
hurry   was   quite   incompre- 
hensible to  men  to  whom  time  <% y 


Cutting  Steps  up  an 
Ice  Slope. 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Etias 

is  no  object.  We  finally  succeeded  in 
making  them  do  as  we  pleased  by  threat- 
ening to  proceed  in  the  Alpha. 

We  left  Yakutat  on  the  morning  of 
July  i  3  in  two  large  canoes  and  one  small 
one,  all  three  being  very  heavily  laden  with 
men  and  provisions.  The  trip  to  Icy  Bay 
was  accomplished  in  ten  hours,  thanks  to 
an  off-shore  breeze  which  sprang  up  early 
in  the  morning  and  stayed  by  us  most  of 
the  day.  Part  of  the  time,  and  for  a  dis- 
tance of  over  fifteen  miles,  we  were  sailing 
along  the  foot  of  the  Malespina  Glacier,  so 
covered  with  earth,  stones,  and  brush  as  to 
make  it  absolutely  impossible  to  discern  the 
ice  with  the  eye,  though  the  temperature  of 
both  wind  and  water  gave  clear  evidence 
of  its  presence. 

Sailing  in  a  large  canoe  is  a  most  delight- 
ful experience.  The  craft  seems  to  glide 
over  the  surface  of  the  water  without  cut- 
ting it.  This  is  owing  to  its  very  light 
draught.  Its  great  width,  on  the  other 
hand,  gives  it  considerable  stability  up  to 
a  certain  point.  If  the  Indians  were  taught 
the  use  of  the  folding  centre-board,  they 
could  probably  make  their  canoes  go  fairly 
well  to  windward.  The  best  they  can  do 
now  is  to  avail  themselves  of  a  beam-wind. 

We  found  comparatively  little  surf  any- 
232 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

where  on  the  coast,  and  by  awaiting  their 
opportunity  the  Indians  succeeded,  amidst 
the  most  intense  excitement  on  their  part, 
in  bringing  the  canoes  in  on  the  crest  of  a 
wave,  and  landing  us  without  much  wet- 
ting. Fifteen  hours  after  our  arrival  the 
surf,  however,  was  so  high  that  it  would 
have  been  impossible  for  us  to  reach  the 
beach  in  safety.  We  landed  very  near  the 
place  where  the  Schwatka  party  were  put 
ashore  by  the  Pinta's  boats.  The  beach 
at  this  point  is  broad  and  steep,  and  com- 
posed of  dark  sand,  which,  together  with 
the  dark  green  trees  in  the  background, 
gave  the  landscape  a  sombre  and  impres- 
sive appearance. 

It  may  now  be  well  to  say  a  word  about 
our  general  plans.  We  had  brought  along 
fourteen  hundred  pounds  of  provisions, 
consisting  mainly  of  bacon,  hams,  smoked 
salmon,  flour,  beans,  dried  apples,  tea,  and 
coffee,  enough  to  enable  fourteen  men  to 
remain  away  from  Yakutat  forty  days  if 
necessary.  Of  these  forty  days  it  was  our 
intention  to  devote  at  the  outside  twenty- 
eight  to  climbing.  Food  had  been  brought 
for  the  remaining  twelve,  in  case  we  should 
be  detained  at  Icy  Bay  on  our  return 
through  the  unfavorable  condition  of  the 
surf,  as  we  could  not  count  on  obtaining 

233 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Eliot 


Mount  St.  Elias  from  the  Northwest  Corner  of  the  Chaix  Hills, 


any  food  at  that  place  except  seal  meat  or 
blubber,  which  we  tried,  and  found  want- 
ing. Hence  it  was  never  intended  to  re- 
move more  than  about  two-thirds  of  our 
provisions  from  the  beach. 

On  the  morning  of  the  16th  we  broke 
camp,  leaving  an  Indian  behind  to  take 
care  of  the  canoes  which  remained.  We 
regretted  having  to  place  ourselves  to  such 
an  extent  in  the  power  of  an  Indian  whom 

234 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elia 


showing  the  Crater,  the  entire  upper  rim  of  which  was  ascended. 

we  had  known  for  a  few  days  only,  but 
there  seemed  to  be  no  alternative.  Had 
he  played  us  false,  and  made  off  with  the 
canoes,  we  would  upon  our  return  to  the 
beach  have  been  in  a  very  serious  predica- 


*  A  point  just  above  the  asterisk,  where  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  meets  the  glacier,  was  the  site  of  our  five  days'  camp. 
Directly  over  this  in  the  illustration  is  the  crater ;  and  the  ex- 
treme right-hand  limit  of  the  upper  rim  of  this  —  a  point  about 
half  an  inch  to  the  right  of  a  vertical  line  drawn  from  the  camp 
—  was  the  highest  spot  reached. 

235 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

merit.  One  of  the  large  ones  was  sent  back 
to  Yakutat  with  seven  other  Indians,  who 
had  accompanied  us  only  as  far  as  Icy  Bay. 
Our  native  packers  carried  from  seventy  to 
ninety  pounds,  our  white  men  from  sixty  to 
eighty,  while  my  English  friends  and  I  had 
loads  varying  in  weight  from  twenty-five 
to  forty  pounds.  We  followed  the  beach 
in  a  westerly  direction  for  about  five  miles. 
During  part  of  the  time  we  were  obliged 
to  walk  over  ground  which  was  thickly 
covered  with  wild  strawberries.  We  found 
them  growing  in  the  sand,  of  very  good 
size,  but  somewhat  lacking  in  flavor.  The 
bears  are  very  fond  of  them,  and  their  tracks 
may  be  seen  wherever  the  berries  grow. 

The  route  for  the  first  day  was  substan- 
tially that  taken  by  the  previous  party. 
We  soon  left  the  beach,  and  turning  sharply 
to  the  right,  followed  up  one  of  the  many 
arms  of  the  Yahtse  River,  this  being  the 
name  by  which  the  Jones  River  is  known 
to  the  Indians.  The  Indian  name  inter- 
preted means  "  Muddy  Harbor  River," 
and  it  is  a  very  appropriate  one.  There 
was  no  reason  why  the  previous  party 
should  have  rechristened  it,  and  it  is  to 
be  hoped  that  the  government  will  not 
allow  this  good  old  Indian  name  to  be 
displaced  by  the  name  Jones  River, 

236 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

A  great  deal  of  wading  had  to  be  done 
through  and  across  the  various  branches 
of  the  Yahtse,  the  water  of  which  issued 
from  the  glacier  less  than  eight  miles  be- 
yond, so  that  its  temperature  must  have 
been  in  the  neighborhood  of  400.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  describe  adequately 
the  discomfort  caused  by  entering  this 
cold  water,  as  we  were  compelled  to  do 
on  the  first  day  with  all  our  clothes  on 
over  twenty  times,  to  depths  varying  from 
two  to  four  feet. 

The  second  day  out  we  left  the  Yahtse, 
and  ascended  the  Agassiz  Glacier,  which 
lay  on  our  right.  This  glacier  is  entirely 
unlike  any  we  had  ever  seen.  Along  its 
edge  and  to  a  height  of  five  hundred  feet 
or  more  it  is  so  densely  wooded  with  large 
trees  and  brush  that  it  is  hard  for  one  to 
realize  that  a  few  feet  beneath  the  soil 
there  is  solid  ice.  On  emerging  from  the 
forest  we  found  ourselves  facing  an  im- 
mense moraine,  which  extended  for  miles 
away  to  the  northward  and  eastward.  The 
Alaskan  moraines  are  different  from  those 
commonly  seen  in  Switzerland,  which  gen- 
erally consist  of  stones  and  bowlders  piled 
up  in  a  continuous  line  at  the  edge  or  on 
the  surface  of  a  glacier.  About  St.  Elias 
one  finds  debris  covering  the  ice  to  a  greater 

237 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

or  lesser  depth,  and  extending  quite  a  dis- 
tance away  from  the  borders.  In  the  cen- 
tre of  the  glacier  white  ice  is  generally 
seen.  Travelling  over  the  debris  is  very 
rough  work,  and  particularly  so  for  men 
with  heavy  packs.  The  stones  are  loosely 
distributed,  and  even  with  the  greatest  care 
in  selecting  a  footing  one  frequently  loses 
his  balance  and  gets  a  bad  tumble. 

Once  on  the  glacier,  we  were  obliged 
to  elect  which  one  of  the  two  routes  lead- 
ing to  St.  Elias  we  would  take;  for  before 
us,  at  a  distance  of  perhaps  eighteen  miles, 
the  Chaix  Hills,  a  sandstone  range  some 
twelve  miles  long  and  thirty-five  hundred 
feet  high,  lay  in  such  a  position  that  a 
straight  line  drawn  from  us  to  the  moun- 
tain would  have  intersected  them  at  right 
angles,  dividing  them  into  two  equal  parts. 
Two  years  ago  the  Schwatka  party  went  to 
the  left ;  and  as  they  expressed  the  opin- 
ion that  St.  Elias  was  inaccessible  by  the 
face  they  saw,  we  decided  that  it  would  be 
better  for  us  to  try  the  other  way  first. 

Most  of  our  Indians  had  never  been  on 
ice  before,  yet  they  carried  their  loads  of 
eighty  or  ninety  pounds  over  rough  and  slip- 
pery places  with  comparative  ease.  More 
than  once  we  took  great  pains  to  cut  steps 
across  an  ice-slope,  to  prevent  any  one  from 

238 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 


from  the  Pacific  Ocean. 


slipping ;  but  they  generally  disdained  us- 
ing them,  crossing  either  just  above  or  just 
below  where  we  had  prepared  the  way. 
They  refused  to  wear  the  shoes  with  nails 
we  had  provided  for  them,  preferring  their 
moccasins.  Several  reached  camp  one  night 
with  bleeding  feet,  but  they  nevertheless 
persisted  in  using  their  own  footgear.  We 
subsequently  discovered  that  one  of  their 
objects  in  so  doing  was  to  avoid  wearing 
out  good  shoes  in  our  service. 


239 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

The  average  Indian  is  a  competent  be- 
ing, though  it  takes  some  time  to  dis- 
cover his  good  points.  He  is  quick  at 
grasping  ideas,  and  is  especially  good  at 
imitating  what  others  have  done.  But' it 
requires  great  patience  in  dealing  with 
him,  the  more  so  since  he  deals  with  the 
white  man  at  arm's  length.  He  is  exceed- 
ingly distrustful ;  nor  does  he  cease  to  be  so 
until  he  has  become  thoroughly  convinced 
of  the  honest  intentions  of  the  stranger. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  third  day  our 
general  course  was  toward  the  eastern  end 
of  the  Chaix  Hills;  but  by  noon,  our  prog- 
ress being  slower  than  we  had  anticipated, 
we  decided  to  make  for  the  nearest  point 
on  the  same,  to  avoid,  if  possible,  spending 
the  night  on  the  glacier.  We  were  for- 
tunate in  finding  a  suitable  place  for  leav- 
ing the  ice.  This  cannot  be  done  at  every 
point,  owing  to  the  steepness  of  the  gla- 
cier at  its  edge.  Between  the  hills  and 
the  glacier  ran  a  swift  stream,  after  fording 
which  we  found  ourselves  on  a  beautiful 
camping-ground.  The  change  from  the 
moraine  was  very  refreshing.  To  a  height 
of  several  hundred  feet  these  hills  are 
densely  wooded  with  dark  green  brush  ; 
above  grows  a  kind  of  coarse  grass  of  a 
lighter  hue;  still  higher  appear  the  steep 

240 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

and  bare  slopes  of  sandstone.  Pine-trees 
are  found  on  a  few  isolated  spots.  We 
subsequently  learned  that  the  northern 
face  is  covered  with  snow,  as  might  be 
expected.  It  is  very  odd  that  such  rich 
vegetation  should  be  found  in  the  midst 
of  so  much  ice. 

Eight  of  the  packers  were  now  sent 
back  to  Icy  Bay  to  bring  up  another  sup- 
ply of  food,  and  two  of  the  Sitka  Indians 
remained  to  aid  us  in  moving  camp  while 
exploring  the  ground  that  lay  before  us. 
They  stayed  very  reluctantly,  and  did  not 
seem  to  appreciate  the  distinction  we  had 
intended  to  confer  on  them  by  selecting 
them  as  the  two  best. 

Our  immediate  object  was  to  reach  the 
eastern  end  of  the  Chaix  Hills,  by  follow- 
ing up  the  stream,  if  possible,  as  walking 
along  its  edge  was  vastly  preferable  to  cross- 
ing the  rough  glacier.  About  four  miles 
above  the  last  camp  we  discovered  a  beau- 
tiful lake,  bordered  on  one  side  by  the 
green  hill-slopes,  on  the  other  by  the  steep 
cliffs  of  the  glacier.  It  was  only  one  of  a 
great  number  of  similar  lakes  which  are  to 
be  found  all  along  this  sandstone  range. 
A  flock  of  ducks  rose  as  we  came  in  sight. 
Owing  to  the  steepness  of  the  ice  around  a 
second  lake,  we  were  eventually  obliged  to 

241 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

take  to  the  glacier  again ;  and  by  means  of 
it  we  succeeded,  in  the  course  of  two  days, 
in  turning  the  hills  at  the  desired  point. 
We  were  then  on  a  glacier  proceeding 
directly  from  the  southeastern  face  of  the 
mountain.  We  ascended  it  for  a  short 
distance,  and,  from  a  point  about  two  thou- 
sand feet  high,  obtained  a  perfect  view  of 
the  imposing  mass  of  St.  Elias,  then  less 
than  eight  miles  distant.  Though  by  no 
means  the  highest  mountain  in  the  world 
by  actual  measurement,  yet  it  probably  ap- 
pears as  large  as,  if  not  larger  than,  any 
other ;  for  it  is  plainly  visible  from  the  sea 
throughout  its  entire  height  of  about  eigh- 
teen thousand  feet.  The  Swiss  mountains, 
which  are  all  under  sixteen  thousand  feet, 
are  generally  seen  from  elevations  varying 
from  four  to  eight  thousand  feet,  while  in 
the  Himalayas  the  plane  of  observation  is 
considerably  higher.  It  is  certainly  true, 
that  with  the  possible  exception  of  other 
peaks  in  the  interior,  as  yet  unknown, 
Mount  St.  Elias  presents  the  greatest  snow 
climb  in  the  world,  on  account  of  the  low 
point  to  which  the  line  of  perpetual  snow 
descends  in  these  northerly  regions.  Beside 
St.  Elias  such  mountains  as  Cook  and  Van- 
couver sank  into  insignificance.  The  face 
we  were  looking  at  was  composed  mainly 

242 


i  Hi  * 

111  e 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

of  great  masses  of  broken  snow  and  ice. 
On  either  side  were  rocky  aretes  leading 
up  to  the  final  pyramid.  The  lower  part 
of  the  mountain  seemed  much  less  acces- 
sible than  the  upper  part.  After  a  careful 
survey  of  the  whole,  we  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  any  attempt  to  make  the  as- 
cent from  that  quarter  could  only  result  in 
failure. 

In  order  not  to  endanger  our  chances  of 
possible  success  on  the  southwestern  face 
through  any  lack  of  time,  we  decided  to 
start  for  that  point  at  once.  This  involved 
retracing  our  steps  to  the  first  place  we  had 
reached  on  the  Chaix  Hills.  A  short  dis- 
tance beyond  we  met  the  eight  packers  on 
their  return  from  Icy  Bay  ;  and  the  party, 
which  then  again  numbered  fourteen,  di- 
rected their  steps  to  the  northwestern  cor- 
ner of  the  Chaix  Hills.  Lake  Castani, 
discovered  and  named  by  the  previous  party, 
happened  to  be  filled  with  water  and  float- 
ing icebergs  as  we  passed  it.  On  our  return, 
a  fortnight  later,  we  found  it  to  be  quite 
empty,  the  icebergs  being  stranded.  Be- 
yond Castani  we  were  obliged  to  pass  some 
thick  brush  before  reaching  the  Guyot 
Glacier.  A  walk  of  three  hours  over 
white  ice  then  brought  us  to  the  north- 
western corner  of  the  Chaix  Hills. 

245 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elia 


Just  before  leaving  the  glacier,  one  of 
our  men  discovered  a  large  flock  of  geese  on 
a  lake.  The  whole  party  was  summoned  ; 
and,  dropping  our  packs,  we  armed  our- 
selves with  clubs,  with  a  view  to  having 
some  fresh  food  for  the  next  meal.  The 
geese  were  too  young  to  fly  ;  and  this  was 
fortunate  for  us,  as  we  had  been  obliged  to 
leave  all  our  guns  behind,  on  account  of 
their  weight.  The  geese  retired  to  a  shel- 
tered nook  beneath  a  great  ice-arch  with 
considerable  overhang,  which  they  were 
only  induced  to  leave  on  hearing  the  re- 
port of  a  revolver.  As  they  swam  out,  a 
dozen  or  more  were  either  clubbed  or 
grabbed.  We  roasted  them  before  an  open 
lire,  and  found  them  excellent  eating, 
though  doubtless  the  surrounding  circum- 
stances added  somewhat  to  their  savor.  A 
fortnight  later  the  geese  in  the  neighbor- 
hood were  all  able  to  fly,  and  hence  our 
unsportsmanlike  methods  ceased  to  be  of 
any  avail. 

Our  new  location  on  the  Chaix  Hills 
was  amidst  the  grandest  of  mountain  sce- 
nery. The  most  conspicuous  object  was, 
of  course,  Mount  St.  Elias,  which  rose 
abruptly  from  the  glacier  some  twelve 
miles  beyond.  Two  massive  shoulders  of 
snow  led  up  to  the  summit,  in  shape  re- 

246 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 


sembling  a  pyramid,  three  of  the  edges  of 
which  were  visible.  Somewhat  in  advance 
of  the  final  peak  was  what  appeared  as  an 
immense  crater  or  amphitheatre,  which,  if 
severed  from  the  rest,  would  in  itself  be  a 
mountain  of  no  mean  dimensions.  St.  Elias 
terminates  on  either  side  in  a  long  ridge 
of  as  fine  precipitous  rock  as  is  often  seen. 
These  ridges  appear  as  a  continuation  of 
the  shoulders,  than  which  they  are,  how- 
ever, so  much  lower  that  there  is  little 
difficulty  in  determining  where  the  moun- 
tain proper  begins  and  where  it  ends. 
Turning  to  the  left,   the  eye,  after  travel- 


I 


Camp  at  Icy  Bay  before  the  start  for  Moind  St.  Elias. 
247 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

ling  over  immense  tracts  of  glacier,  en- 
counters a  range  of  snow-clad  mountains 
with  but  few  protruding  rocks.  They 
were  particularly  beautiful  when  tinged 
by  the  reddish  light  of  the  setting  sun. 
In  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  our 
camp,  violets,  forget-me-nots,  and  blue- 
bells were  growing  in  profusion.  A  pool 
of  tolerably  warm  water,  fed  from  subter- 
ranean sources,  gave  us  an  opportunity  of 
enjoying  a  delightful  swim.  It  seemed 
very  odd  to  be  bathing  when  surrounded 
on  all  sides  by  glaciers,  and  with  Mount 
St.  Elias  in  our  immediate  vicinity. 

Thinking  we  saw  a  possible  route  up  the 
mountain  by  way  of  the  crater,  we  decided 
to  move  forward  immediately.  Having 
crossed  the  Tyndall  Glacier  in  three  hours 
and  a  half  to  Schwatka's  last  camp  on  a 
range  of  foot-hills,  we  sent  back  to  Icy 
Bay  all  but  four  of  our  packers.  With 
them  we  gradually  pushed  on  up  the  gla- 
cier, and  camped  the  third  night  after 
leaving  the  Chaix  Hills  near  the  mouth 
of  the  second  of  the  three  glaciers  which 
join  the  Tyndall  on  the  left  and  at  right 
angles.  At  this  point  one  of  the  party 
had  the  misfortune  to  meet  with  an  acci- 
dent which  rendered  it  inadvisable  for  him 
to  attempt  any  further  climbing.     Leav- 

248 


Climbing  Mount  St.  EtiaS 

ing  him  and  the  two  Indians  at  the  camp 
last  mentioned,  the  remaining  three  of  us, 
with  two  white  packers,  pushed  right  on 
to  the  base  of  the  mountain  and  crater,  and 
pitched  our  tent  on  the  only  green  spot 
on  the  southwestern  face  of  St.  Elias. 

This  spot,  covering'  perhaps  two  acres, 
was  about  three  thousand  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea,  on  what  may  be  said  to 
represent  the  line  of  perpetual  snow  on 
Mount  St.  Elias.  We  had  some  little  trou- 
ble in  reaching  it,  owing  to  the  treacherous 
condition  of  the  glacier  up  which  we  were 
obliged  to  proceed.  The  latter  is  very 
much  crevassed  for  a  distance  of  two  miles 
or  more  from  the  mountain.  In  the  very 
early  part  of  the  season  it  is  probably  cov- 
ered with  so  much  snow  that  one  would 
hardly  become  aware  of  the  presence  of 
the  ice  beneath  ;  but  by  the  end  of  July 
much  of  the  snow  has  disappeared  ;  and 
the  remaining  snow-bridges  over  the  cre- 
vasses, being  then  very  thin,  are  liable  to 
break  when  subjected  to  any  great  pressure. 
Hence  we  had  to  feel  our  way  along  very 
carefully,  and  at  times  retrace  our  steps  for 
a  considerable  distance  in  order  to  try  get- 
ting ahead  at  another  point.  As  we  were 
tied  together  with  a  stout  rope,  which  was 
kept  taut  when   in   dangerous  places,  the 

249 


Climbing  Mount  St.   /'-'iias 

only  result  following  the  breaking  through 
of  a  snow-bridge  was  the  temporary  dis- 
appearance, partial  or  total,  of  one  of  the 
party  beneath  the  snow.  With  the  aid 
of  the  rope  he  was  able  to  regain  the  sur- 
face with  little  or  no  trouble.  Without 
the  rope,  though,  a  person  would  in  many 
cases  fall  to  a  great  depth,  where  he  would 
be  jammed  in  the  ice  or  freeze  to  death 
before  any  assistance  could  be  rendered. 
Of  course  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance 
that  crevasses  which  are  hidden  by  snow 
should  be  crossed  at  right  angles  ;  for  if 
several  are  on  a  snow-bridge  at  once,  and 
it  breaks  through,  the  rope  ceases  to  be  of 
any  avail,  and  all  may  come  to  grief.  Such 
accidents,  however,  need  not  occur  when 
proper  care  is  exercised  in  examining  the 
surface  of  the  snow. 

Our  party  was  the  first  to  set  foot  on 
Mount  St.  Elias  ;  for  the  previous  expe- 
dition, having  proceeded  up  the  Tyndall 
Glacier  to  within  a  certain  distance  of  the 
mountain,  decided  to  branch  off  to  the 
left  on  account  of  the  roughness  of  the  ice 
ahead. *  Mr.  Karr  then  ascended,  to  a 
height  of  about  seven  thousand  feet,  one  of 
a  chain  of  hills  which  faces  the  main  range, 
but  constitutes  in  no  sense  any  part  of  it. 

*  Karr's  "  Shores  and  Alps  of  Alaska,"  p.  102.  Schwatka's 
letter  to  the  New  York  Times,  Oct.  7,  1886. 

250 


Climbing  ^fcrnnt  St.  Elias 


Heretofore  the  fuel  question  had  never 
given  us  any  trouble,  as  we  had  always 
succeeded  in  rinding  wood  or  brush  where- 
ever  we  had  stopped  ;  but  now  our  fires 
were  comparatively  small,  being  fed  only 
bv  bits  of  shrubbery  and  dry  moss.  We 
were,  however,  always  able  to  boil  enough 
water  for  coffee;  and  no  further  cooking 
was  required,  as  we  had,  in  anticipation  of 
finding  no  fuel  on  the  mountain,  brought 
with  us  boiled  hams  and  hard  tack  for  use 
while  there. 

The  view  from  our  camping-ground 
was  one  of  rare  beauty.  A  small  portion 
of  the  summit  of  Mount  St.  Elias  was  visi- 
ble, peeping  up  over  the  crater.     Its  great 


)L,1 


Wading  an  arm  of  the    \ahtse  River  on  the  return  Jrom  the  ^Mountain, 


251 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 


Mount  La  Perouse  and  the 


height,  however,  could  not  be  fully  ap- 
preciated from  so  near  its  base.  A  most 
remarkable  and  unique  sight  were  two 
straight  and  narrow  glaciers,  which  ap- 
peared to  have  fallen  over  the  edge  of  the 
mountain  at  a  point  where  it  was  very 
steep.  They  were  parallel,  and  were  sep- 
arated by  a  strip  of  fine  bare  rock.  They 
resembled  two  frozen  cascades,  and  must 
have  been  over  two  thousand  feet  high. 
For  the  first  time  we  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  valley  through  which  the  upper 
part  of  the  Tyndall  Glacier  descends.    The 


252 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 


Great  Pacific  Glacier,  from  the  Ocean. 


rocky  peaks  and  precipices  in  the  back- 
ground were  very  grand,  reminding  us 
somewhat  of  the  scenery  from  Montan- 
vert  looking  up  the  Mer  de  Glace. 

No  less  than  fourteen  different  kinds  of 
wild-flowers  were  found  near  our  camp, 
and  a  few  excellent  strawberries  were 
picked.  Ptarmigan,  which  during  the 
last  few  days  had  been  seen  in  large  num- 
bers, had  now  grown  scarce,  though  with 
the  aid  of  a  gun  we  could  have  secured 
enough  for  several  meals.  Four  marmots 
were   captured   by  smoking  them  out  of 

253 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

their  hole  in  the  cleft  of  a  rock.  Situated 
as  we  were,  they  made  an  excellent  stew, 
to  prepare  which  we  destroyed  one  of  our 
wooden  boxes.  Two  bears  were  seen  cross- 
ing the  glacier.  They  did  not  trouble  us, 
and  we  had  no  means  of  troubling  them. 

From  our  camp  on  the  mountain  the 
crater  was  reached  by  two  different  aretes 
and  on  two  different  occasions.  The  as- 
cent alone  of  the  first  arete  occupied  the 
better  part  of  eight  hours,  and  was  not 
free  from  difficulty.  The  height  reached 
was  about  eight  thousand  feet.  A  low, 
broad  cairn  was  built  at  the  top.  Being 
of  the  opinion  that  the  route  we  had 
chosen  was  too  long  for  the  beginning  of 
the  ascent  of  such  a  mountain  as  St.  Elias, 
we  decided  to  ascertain  whether  the  crater 
could  not  be  gained  more  easily  in  some 
other  way.  The  night  previous  to  the 
second  successful  attempt  to  reach  it  was 
spent  in  the  sopen  air,  two  hours  beyond 
the  regular  camp,  at  a  somewhat  chilly 
spot.  We  were  surrounded  on  almost 
every  side  by  snow  and  ice,  so  we  could 
hardly  expect  very  much  warmth  after 
the  sun  had  gone  down.  The  glacier  to 
the  left  of  us  was  very  peculiar.  It  seemed 
to  have  its  origin  in  a  rocky  precipice,  and 
consisted  mainly  of  yawning  crevasses.     It 

254 


Climbing  Mount  St.  E/icis 

was  evidently  the  remnant  of  a  once  fine 
glacier  coming  down  from  above. 

A  start  was  made  at  4.30  a.m.  The 
Tophams  and  I  were  tied  to  a  rope,  our 
two  packers  remaining  at  the  base  of  the 
mountain.  After  two  hours  and  a  half 
of  steady  climbing  we  had  gained  the 
crater  by  a  rock  arete  running  parallel  to 
the  one  we  had  already  ascended.  Our 
experience  with  the  rocks  of  Mount  St. 
Elias  was  not  of  an  agreeable  character. 
They  were  practically  all  composed  of  shale 
of  the  most  rotten  kind,  thus  affording 
no  hold  for  either  our  hands  or  our  feet. 
Large  pieces  broke  off  and  went  tumbling 
down  below  at  every  step  we  took,  filling 
the  air  with  dust ;  and  at  times  we  were 
obliged  to  use  great  care  in  order  to  avoid 
going  along  with  them.  Had  the  rock 
been  firm,  the  climbing  would  have  been 
very  fine,  as  the  arete  was  quite  rugged. 
The  sharp  character  of  the  shale  was  most 
injurious  to  our  shoes,  however  stout  they 
were ;  and  the  integrity  of  our  footgear 
was,  of  course,  a  question  of  the  utmost 
importance  to  us. 

Once  on  the  brink  of  the  crater,  we 
obtained  a  perfect  view  of  this  wonderful 
cavity  in  the  mountain-side.  It  is  one  of 
the  main  features  of  the  southwestern  face 

255 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

of  St.  Elias.  It  begins  on  the  right  in  a 
splendid  jagged  arete  leading  up  to  a  peak 
which,  from  another  point,  appears  as  a 
spur  of  the  mountain.  At  the  foot  of  this 
peak  begins  the  upper  rim  of  the  crater, 
which  descends  gradually  to  the  left  in  the 
shape  of  a  spiral  curve.  In  its  entire  length 
it  is  frosted  with  a  layer  of  snow  over  fifty 
feet  thick,  the  effect  of  which  is  very 
striking.  The  walls  of  the  crater  are  com- 
posed of  steep,  bare  rock,  the  surface  of 
which  is  furrowed  and  stratified  in  a  most 
wonderful  manner.  The  interior  is  filled 
with  snow ;  its  outlet  being  to  the  east- 
ward, where  it  feeds  a  large  glacier.  There 
is  some  reason  for  believing  that  this  am- 
phitheatre is  of  volcanic  origin.  Several 
specimens  of  rocks  which  were  brought 
down  seem  to  support  this  theory,  while 
later  in  the  day  a  cone  was  passed  resem- 
bling in  shape  and  general  appearance  those 
seen  in  the  crater  of  Kilauea,  on  the  island 
of  Hawaii. 

Having  paused  a  few  moments  for  the 
view,  we  turned  to  the  left,  and  began  fol- 
lowing the  edge  of  the  crater  in  a  westerly 
direction.  We  soon  passed  the  point  we 
had  reached  two  days  before,  and  then 
walked  steadily  for  two  hours  over  snow- 
fields  and  steep  debris.    Later  we  had  about 

256 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

fifteen  minutes  of  good  climbing  among 
solid  sandstone  and  conglomerate  rocks, 
which  we  enjoyed  immensely,  as  it  was  in 
marked  contrast  with  what  we  had  been 
treated  to  on  the  shale  arete. 

After  a  hasty  lunch  at  ten  we  continued 
the  ascent.  The  following  hour  was  oc- 
cupied in  cutting  our  way  up  an  ice-slope. 
This  is  always  slow  and  tedious  work,  and 
particularly  so  when  the  ice  is  covered  with 
a  layer  of  snow.  At  an  early  hour  of  the 
day  such  slopes  can  sometimes  be  ascended 
by  digging  one's  feet  into  the  snow,  and 
without  the  aid  of  any  steps  in  the  ice ;  but 
after  the  surface  has  been  exposed  to  the 
rays  of  the  sun,  there  is  always  danger  of  the 
whole  mass  of  snow  detaching  itself  from 
the  ice,  and  forming  a  miniature  avalanche; 
in  which  case  the  whole  party  would  be 
pretty  sure  to  follow  the  avalanche  down 
the  slope.  It  is  far  safer,  and  generally 
absolutely  necessary,  when  brought  face  to 
face  with  such  an  obstacle,  to  cut  one's  way 
up  it  step  by  step.  The  rate  of  progress 
under  such  circumstances  is  often  not  over 
a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  an  hour,  whereas  a 
good  snow-field  can  be  climbed  at  more 
than  ten  times  this  speed.  The  steps  are 
cut  by  means  of  an  ice-axe,  the  shape  of 
which  is  familiar  to  Swiss  tourists.     The 

2W 


Cli7nbitig  Mount  St.  F./ias 

first  man  has  most  of  the  heavy  work  to 
do.  Those  behind  him  have  to  see  that 
the  rope  is  kept  taut,  and  to  dig  their  axes 
well  into  the  ice  at  each  step,  in  order  to 
have  a  good  hold,  should  any  one  slip.  The 
descent  of  such  a  slope  is  generally  accom- 
plished in  the  same  way  that  one  would 
descend  a  ladder.  When  thus  facing  the 
ice,  there  is  less  danger  of  losing  one's  bal- 
ance. Then,  too,  it  is  easier  to  secure  a 
foothold  in  a  slippery  step  with  the  toe 
than  with  the  heel. 

Having  climbed  the  ice-slope,  we  found 
ourselves  at  the  point  where  the  crater  ap- 
pears from  below  to  take  a  sudden  turn  to 
the  right.  We  then  walked  along  the  un- 
dulating line  of  its  upper  edge.  No  sooner 
had  we  reached  the  top  of  one  eminence 
than  we  were  obliged  to  descend  again, 
only  to  prepare  for  climbing  another.  The 
snow  was  very  soft,  and  we  constantly 
went  in  to  our  knees  and  sometimes  to 
our  waist.  At  1.45  p.m.  we  were  at  the 
point  where  the  rocky  peak  already  re- 
ferred to  may  properly  be  said  to  begin. 
According  to  observations  made  with  ane- 
roid barometers  and  a  boiling-point  ther- 
mometer, the  height  reached  was  11,460 
feet,  nearly  9,000  of  which  were  above 
the  line  of  perpetual  snow.     Several  sights 

258 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

were  taken  with  the  prismatic  compass,  in 
order  to  locate  our  position  on  the  moun- 
tain. It  was  unfortunately  too  late  in  the 
day,  and  the  snow  was  getting  too  soft,  for 
us  to  ascend  the  small  peak.  We  estimated 
it  to  he  about  1,500  feet  above  us,  and 
under  favorable  conditions  could  probably 
have  climbed  it  in  less  than  two  hours. 

There  are  several  reasons,  which  it  would 
be  tedious  for  the  reader  to  have  laid  be- 
fore him  at  length,  why  no  further  attempt 
was  made  to  reach  the  actual  summit  of 
Mount  St.  Elias.  The  only  practicable 
route  leading  to  the  final  peak  from  beyond 
the  crater  appeared  to  be  over  a  huge 
mound  some  1,500  feet  high,  the  slopes 
of  which  were  mostly  covered  with  ice. 
To  cut  steps  up  it  would  in  itself  be  no 
small  task,  and  would  have  to  be  performed 
at  the  beginning,  and  not  in  the  middle,  of 
the  day's  climb:  hence  it  would  be  neces- 
sary to  establish  a  temporary  camp  at  a 
considerable  height  on  the  mountain;  and 
to  do  this  would  require  the  services  of 
packers  experienced  in  climbing,  such  as 
the  present  expedition  did  not  have  at  its 
command.  Even  then  success  would  not 
be  certain,  unless  another  year  should  rind 
these  same  slopes  covered  with  firm  snow 
instead   of  ice.      That   this  would  be   the 

259 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

case  is  not  at  all  improbable,  in  view  of  the 
unusual  amount  of  sunny  weather  which 
prevailed  in  Alaska  during  the  whole  of  the 
summer  of  1 888,  the  tendency  of  which  is 
to  turn  snow  into  ice.  Beyond  the  mound 
the  ascent  by  the  southern  arete  appeared 
to  offer  fewer  difficulties,  though  the  very 
summit  of  the  mountain  wore  a  snowcap 
with  a  great  deal  of  overhang.  The  south- 
western face  of  St.  Elias,  it  is  safe  to  say, 
will  never  be  climbed.  It  presents  a  mass 
of  broken  snow,  beautiful  yet  forbidding. 
We  estimated  the  summit  to  be  about 
7,000  feet  above  us,  making  its  total  height 
1 8,500  feet.  It  seemed  to  us  that  the  Coast 
Survey,  giving  it  19,500  feet,  was  too  lib- 
eral in  its  figures.* 

The  day  was  cloudless.  The  whole 
scene  was  one  that  baffles  description.  It 
surpassed  in  grandeur,  though  not  in  pic- 
turesqueness,  the  very  best  that  the  Alps  can 
offer.  Roughly  speaking,  the  eye  encoun- 
tered for  miles  nothing  but  snow  and  ice. 
I  had  never  before  thoroughly  realized  the 
vastness  of  the  Alaskan  glaciers,  though 
during  the  past  fortnight  we  had  spent 
many  a  weary  hour  in  crossing  immense 


*  Note.  —  In  1891,  two  years  after  the  writing  of  the  above, 
the  height  of  Mount  St.  Elias  was  determined  to  be  18,100  feet, 
which  measurement  is  now  adopted  by  the  Government.  —  Ed. 

260 


Climbing  Mount  St.  EliaS 

moraines.  One  of  the  glaciers  we  looked 
down  upon  wras  not  less  than  sixty  miles 
long,  while  another  attained  a  breadth  of 
twenty-five  or  thirty  miles. 

From  below  I  had  gained  the  impression 
that  ice  covered  with  debris  predominated 
over  white  ice.  I  now  saw  that  this  was 
not  the  case,  and  that  the  ratio  of  debris  to 
clear  ice  was  probably  not  greater  than  that 
of  one  to  ten.  When  standing  at  a  consid- 
erable height,  one  appreciates  for  the  first 
time  the  beautiful  curves  through  which 
the  glaciers  alter  their  courses.  We  noticed 
this  in  particular  in  looking  down  upon  the 
Agassiz  Glacier.  It  appeared  at  one  point 
to  describe  three  or  four  arcs  of  concentric 
circles  with  radii  varying  from  eight  to  ten 
miles,  each  arc  being  indicated  by  a  light 
coating  of  stones,  the  whole  resembling  an 
immense  race-course.  Through  the  mid- 
dle of  the  Tyndall  Glacier,  and  for  a  dis- 
tance of  several  miles,  two  light  streaks  of 
moraine  ran  parallel  to  each  other,  present- 
ing from  above  the  appearance  of  a  huge 
serpent  crawling  the  length  of  the  glacier. 

The  groups  of  snow-clad  peaks  visible  to 
the  naked  eye  were  countless ;  and  to  the 
northward,  in  which  direction  the  view 
was  barred,  their  number  is  doubtless  quite 
as  great.      Only  a  few  of  them,  however, 

261 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

impressed  us  as  being  either  very  high,  or 
very  striking  in  shape.  Some  of  them  rose 
out  of  the  snow  in  such  a  manner  as  to  lead 
one  to  believe  that  they  had  been  recently 
buried,  and  were  waiting  to  be  dug  out. 
When  I  sa^  that  but  few  appeared  very 
high  or  striking,  I  should  except  Fair- 
weather  and  Crillon,  which  towered  above 
the  clouds,  though  a  hundred  and  forty 
miles  distant.  The  ocean  was  covered  with 
fog,  as  it  frequently  is  in  these  latitudes.  In 
fact,  it  would  often  be  raining  for  a  whole 
day  at  the  beach,  while  about  St.  Elias  the 
sky  would  be  cloudless. 

At  three  o'clock  we  thought  it  best  to 
begin  our  downward  journey,  as  we  did  not 
care  to  be  caught  out  over  night  without 
blankets.  A  small  American  flag,  presented 
to  the  expedition  by  a  lady  of  Sitka,  was 
placed  in  a  tin  can  and  left  at  "  Flag  Rock," 
a  point  about  ten  thousand  feet  high.  The 
descent  was  accomplished  without  accident, 
and  we  reached  our  sleeping-place  at  8.30 
p.m.  While  descending  the  final  arete, 
and  when  not  occupied  in  dodging  falling 
stones,  we  noticed  some  very  fine  effects  of 
the  setting  sun  on  the  snow  mountains  and 
on  a  few  thin  floating  clouds.  The  hues 
did  not  equal  the  Alpine  glow  of  Swit- 
zerland, but  the  light  blue  of  the  sky  was 

262 


Climbing1  Mount  St.   Elias 

very  beautiful.  The  sunlight  falling  on  the 
green  spots  in  the  valleys  below  made  them 
stand  out  in  marked  contrast  with  the  sur- 
rounding snow  and  ice. 

After  a  hasty  meal  we  wrapped  ourselves 
up  in  our  blankets,  and  spent  another  night 
in  the  open  air.  We  had  all  enjoyed  the 
day  thoroughly.  I  shall  certainly  remem- 
ber it  as  one  of  the  pleasantest  I  have  ever 
spent  in  the  mountains. 

The  twentieth  day  had  now  elapsed  since 
our  arrival  at  Icy  Bay ;  and  it  was  time  for 
us  to  be  thinking  of  getting  back  to  the 
beach,  not  knowing  how  long  we  might 
be  detained  there  by  the  surf.  Leaving  a 
few  things  behind,  we  began  the  return 
journey  in  earnest  the  day  after  the  climb, 
and  reached  -the  shore  in  the  course  of  five 
days.  The  Indians  were  overjoyed  at  the 
idea  of  being  homeward  bound.  They 
seemed  thoroughly  tired  of  the  mountains. 
We  found  the  Yahtse  River  very  much 
higher  than  when  we  had  come  up,  and 
hence  the  wading  was  more  disagreeable. 
At  one  place  we  were  submerged  for  some 
time  anywhere  from  the  chest  to  the  neck, 
according  to  the  size  of  the  man.  We  were 
so  light  when  under  water,  that  the  quick- 
sands below  did  not  trouble  us.  On  the 
other    hand,    our   loads    rendered    us   top- 

263 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elins 

heavy ;  and  one  of  our  men,  as  a  natural 
result,  lost  his  balance,  and  went  over, 
wetting  his  pack.  Our  smallest  Indian 
had  to  be  relieved  of  his  load  altogether. 
Curiously  enough,  the  Indians  seemed  to 
prefer  wading  to  walking  over  dry  ground. 
The  first  day  out  they  took  us  through  deep 
and  cold  water  no  less  than  ten  times  in 
the  course  of  half  an  hour,  part  of  which 
could  have  been  avoided,  as  we  subse- 
quently found,  by  making  a  short  detour 
through  the  woods.  On  the  present  oc- 
casion one  of  them,  having  crossed  the 
stream,  deposited  his  pack,  and  returned 
to  the  deepest  part,  where  he  literally  took 
a  bath  with  all  his  clothes  on,  and  seemed 
to  rejoice  in  our  unsuccessful  efforts  at 
finding  a  shallow  place  for  crossing.  The 
water,  coming  directly  from  the  glacier, 
was  so  cold  that  we  white  men  were  only 
too  glad  to  get  out  of  it;  but  its  tempera- 
ture seemed  to  have  no  disagreeable  effect 
on  the  Indians. 

The  shore-camp  was  reached  Aug.  7, 
early  in  the  afternoon.  There  was  but 
little  surf;  and  fearing  that  the  conditions 
might  change  by  next  morning,  we  de- 
cided to  start  for  Yakutat  that  night.  The 
Indians  were  very  glad  to  leave,  and  as  a 
consequence  we  found  getting  away  from 

264 


Climbing  Mount  St.  EliaS 


A  Rainy  Day  on  the  March  to  the  Mountain. 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Eiiai 


Icy  Bay  to  be  a  very  much  easier  task  than 
starting  out  from  Yakutat  some  four  weeks 
earlier  had  been.  The  large  canoe  carried 
twelve  men,  all  the  baggage,  and  the  pro- 
visions which  were  left  over.  The  small 
one  could  only  hold  four  men.  At  six 
o'clock  we  were  fairly  under  way,  and 
an  equal  amount  of  paddling  and  sailing 
brought  us  to  Yakutat  next  morning  at 
ten  o'clock. 

Four  days  elapsed,  and  the  Alpha,  which 
we  were  relying  on  to  take  us  down  the 
coast,  had  not  yet  put  in  an  appearance. 
As  I  was  anxious  to  be  in  New  York  by 
October,  I  availed  myself  of  an  unexpected 
opportunity  to  reach  Sitka  on  the  Active,  a 
small  schooner  which  was  already  crowded 
with  miners.  My  friends,  not  being  so 
hard  pressed  for  time,  decided  to  await  the 
arrival  of  the  larger  vessel.  The  Active 
was  favored  with  a  fair  breeze  till  within 
thirty  miles  of  Sitka,  at  which  point  we 
took  to  the  oars,  and  rowed  her  into  port 
at  the  rate  of  about  two  miles  an  hour. 
The  trip  was  performed  in  three  days  and 
a  half,  and,  thanks  to  the  fine  weather,  was 
far  from  disagreeable,  notwithstanding  the 
very  primitive  character  of  the  accommo- 
dations, 

267 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

The  others  were,  as  I  subsequently 
learned,  much  less  fortunate  than  myself 
in  getting  away  from  Yakutat.  After 
waiting  another  week  for  the  Alpha,  one 
of  them  decided  to  start  for  Sitka  in  a 
canoe  with  some  Indians.  The  trip  was 
successfully  made  in  seven  days  ;  but  it  was 
a  dangerous  one  to  attempt,  since  the  coast 
consists  largely  of  rocks  and  glaciers,  and 
hence  offers  but  little  protection  against 
southerly  gales,  even  for  a  canoe.  On 
reaching  Sitka  it  was  learned  that  the  Leo, 
a  schooner  with  auxiliary  steam-power,  was 
just  about  to  leave  for  Victoria.  She  was 
immediately  chartered  to  go  to  Yakutat, 
and  bring  the  remainder  of  the  party  away. 
Their  joy  on  sighting  her  was  intense,  but 
not  of  long  duration ;  for  no  sooner  had  she 
steamed  off  with  all  on  board,  than  a  south- 
easterly gale  was  encountered,  which  lasted 
five  days.  During  this  time  the  Leo  sprung 
a  bad  leak,  which  necessitated  a  return  to 
Yakutat,  where  she  was  beached  and  re- 
paired by  her  crew.  Sitka  was  eventually 
reached  on  the  17th  of  September. 

It  is  hoped  that  before  long  this  part  of 
our  country  will  be  visited  again,  and  an- 
other attempt  made  to  climb  Mount  St. 
Elias.  The  next  expedition  will  have  a 
great  advantage  over  the  present  one;  for, 

268 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

the  weather  permitting,  it  can  count  on 
being  at  an  elevation  of  eleven  thousand 
four  hundred  feet  above  the  sea-level  with- 
in six  days  after  leaving  Icy  Bay,  whereas 
this  year's  party  were  eighteen  days  in 
reaching  this  height,  owing  to  the  absence 
of  all  definite  information  concerning  the 
mountain  proper. 

Whether  the  latter  will  ever  be  climbed 
by  following  up  our  route  it  is  impossible 
to  say.  It  is  not  at  all  unlikely  that  the 
true  way  to  the  summit  is  to  be  found  on 
the  northern  side,  where  fewer  rocks  and 
better  snow  would  probably  be  encountered. 
How  to  reach  the  northern  side  of  the 
mountain  is  a  problem  yet  to  be  solved. 
But  whether  successful  in  reaching  the  top 
or  not,  no  party  composed  of  men  who 
enjoy  walking  and  climbing  amidst  the 
finest  of  alpine  scenery  will  ever  regret 
having  spent  a  summer  in  making  the 
attempt  to  ascend  Mount  St.   Elias. 


Since  the  writing  of  the  foregoing  arti- 
cle two  further  attempts  have  been  made 
to  ascend  Mount  St.  Elias;  one  in  1890, 
and  the  other  in  1891.  They  were  made 
under  the  joint  auspices  of  the  United  States 
Geological    Survey    Department    and    the 

369 


Climbing  Mount  St.   Elias 

National  Geographical  Society;  and  both 
expeditions  were  in  charge  of  Mr.  I.  C. 
Russell,  now  a  professor  of  Ann  Arbor 
University.  These  attempts  were  made  on 
the  northern  side  of  the  mountain.  On 
the  first  a  height  of  about  10,000  feet 
was  reached,  and  on  the  second  a  height 
of  14,500  feet.  Descriptions  of  them  by 
Mr.  Russell  will  be  found  in  the  Century 
Magazine  for  April,  1  891,  and  June,  1892, 
and  an  account  of  the  first  one  by  Mr.  M. 
B.  Kerr  on  page  275  of  this  volume.  One 
of  the  results  of  the  first  expedition  was 
the  announcement  (which  was  indeed  start- 
ling to  the  members  of  the  expedition 
which  I  had  joined),  that  the  height  of 
the  mountain  was  only  15,200  feet.  In 
1 89 1  this  error  was,  however,  corrected, 
and  the  height  fixed  at  18,100  feet,  plus 
or  minus  a  probable  error  of  one  hundred 
feet.  This  latest  measurement  substan- 
tially confirms  the  rough  estimate  of  the 
height  assigned  to  the  mountain  by  my 
party  in  1888. 

Since  1891  no  further  attempt  has  been 
made  to  climb  Mount  St.  Elias.  This  is 
not  surprising  when  it  is  remembered  that 
the  undertaking  is  very  costly,  both  as  re- 
gards time  and  money,  while  the  result 
must  always  be  uncertain.      If  the  same 

270 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

climbing  facilities  existed  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  this  mountain  as  exist  at  the 
very  foot,  so  to  speak,  of  each  prominent 
peak  of  the  Alps,  —  i.e.,  if  hotels,  provis- 
ions, and  guides  were  found  within  two  or 
three  days'  march  of  the  summit  of  Mount 
St.  Elias,  —  the  latter  would  doubtless  be 
ascended  from  the  northern  side  with  no 
greater  difficulty  than  attends  the  ascent 
of  first-class  snow-peaks  in  Switzerland. 
In  other  words,  the  mountaineering  diffi- 
culties presented  by  this  great  Alaskan  peak 
are,  standing  alone,  probably  not  of  an  ex- 
traordinary character ;  but  these  difficul- 
ties in  combination  with  those  arising  out 


Mount  St.  Elias,  from   Yaktdat. 
271 


Climbing  Mount  St.  Elias 

of  the  location  of  the  mountain,  far  away 
from  any  civilized  settlement,  and  in  the 
midst  of  rough  glaciers  of  immense  extent, 
across  which  all  provisions  and  equipment 
must  be  carried  or  dragged  by  human 
agency  before  an  opportunity  to  do  any 
real  climbing  presents  itself,  render  the 
matter  of  the  ascent  quite  a  serious  prob- 
lem, the  solution  of  which  should  not  be 
entered  upon  lightly. 


272 


MOUNT    ST.    ELIAS 
AND    ITS    GLACIERS 

By  Mark  Brickell  Kerr 


The  First  Climb. 


1NCE  1 74 1,  when  Bering, 
in  the  course  of  his  great 
voyage,  discovered  St.  Elias, 
and  named  this  grand 
mountain -peak  after  the 
patron  saint  of  the  day, 
many  voyagers  and  explorers  have  turned 
their  thoughts  and  energy  to  accurately 
determine  its  correct  height  and  true  po- 
sition. Captain  Cook,  about  1778;  La 
Perouse,  about  1787;  and,  later,  Malas- 
pina,  whose  unrequited  services  and  death 
in  a  Spanish  prison  rival  the  experiences 
of  Columbus  in  the  ingratitude  of  human- 
ity; Vancouver,  in  1794;  and  many  Russian 


275 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


navigators, —  Ismaleff,  Berchareff,  and  Teb- 
enkoff,  —  all  saw  St.  Elias,  and  most  of 
them  took  sextant  observations  for  its  alti- 
tude and  position. 

The  elevation  generally  adopted  until 
1874  was  that  placed  upon  the  British 
Admiralty  charts;  viz.,  14,970  feet.  In 
that  year  a  party  of  the  United  States 
Coast  and  Geodetic  Survey  made  a  recon- 
noissance  of  Mount  St.  Elias  and  vicinity, 
and  obtained  results  for  altitude  and  posi- 
tion by  means  of  open  triangles  with  long 
sides.  This  placed  the  height  at  19,500 
feet,  and  was  adopted  by  geographers  as 
the  best  evidence  extant  for  altitude.  Since 
then  three  expeditions  have  been  sent  to 
climb  the  mountain,  one  in  1886,  under 
Lieutenant  Schwatka,  called  the  New  Tork 
Times  Expedition,  and  another,  in  1888, 
under  Harold  Topham,  of  the  Royal  Geo- 
graphical Society  and  English  Alpine  Club. 
Both  these  attempts  failed,  as  the  ascent 
was  tried  from  the  south,  or  ocean,  side, 
where  the  crystalline  slopes  are  almost  per- 
pendicular. The  latter  party,  by  aneroid, 
reached  an  elevation  of  11,000  feet.  A 
sketch  of  this  expedition,  by  Mr.  William 
Williams,  one  of  the  party,  is  to  be  found 
on  page  225  of  the  present  volume. 

The  third  party  was  sent  out  in  June, 
276 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


1890,  by  the  National  Geographic  Soci- 
ety, in  command  of  I.  C.  Russell,  geologist. 
To  this  party  the  writer  was  attached,  in 
charge  of  the  geographic  work  of  the  ex- 
pedition. It  is  the  narrative  of  the  journey 
of  this  party  which  I  have  to  detail.  The 
work  of  this  expedition  places  St.  Elias 
at  15,350  feet,*  agreeing  fairly  well  with 
former  determinations  by  Malaspina  and 
other  navigators  of  the  last  century.  Mount 
Cook  is  12,370,  and  Mount  Vancouver 
9,884  feet. 

Taking  advantage  of  the  experience  of 
former  expeditions,  our  party  made  the  at- 
tempt from  the  head  of  Yakutat  Bay,  and 
on  the  eastern  face  of  the  mountain. 

For  many  years  public  interest  has  cen- 
tred around  the  most  remote  of  our  pos- 
sessions, and  many  are  the  tales  related  of 
the  wonders  of  Alaskan  scenery.  Exam- 
ining all  the  data  extant  to-day,  very  little 
is  found  outside  the  beaten  tracks,  —  that 
is,  those  portions  where  the  tourist  steamers 
yearly  go.  If  you  look  in  an  ordinary  gaz- 
etteer, you  will  find  that  Alaska  covers 
about  five  hundred  and  eighty  thousand 
square  miles,  is  rich  in  minerals  and  fur- 

*  Careful  recalculation  of  the  results  of  1890  gave  16,700  feet, 
and  other  points  higher  proportionally. 

277 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


bearing  animals,  has  large  fishing  interests, 
immense  snowy  peaks,  and  huge  glaciers. 
The  charts  show  its  coast-line  in  a  general 
way,  but  the  interior  is  almost  a  blank. 
This  lack  of  definite  knowledge  was  the  rea- 
son our  party  was  organized,  particularly  to 
explore  the  vicinity  of  St.  Elias,  determine 
its  altitude,  and  ascend  it  if  practicable. 

We  outfitted  at  Seattle,  Wash.,  and  hired 
seven  stalwart  woodsmen,  who  seemed  par- 
ticularly well  adapted  for  our  work,  and 
rendered  us  independent  of  Indian  packers, 
who  have  been  found  so  unreliable  in 
former  expeditions.  Our  provisions  were 
carefully  selected,  and  placed  in  tins  of  con- 
venient size  for  protection  against  rain  and 
flood  (ten  days'  rations  for  one  man  in  each 
tin),  and  we  were  extremely  thankful  after- 
ward that  we  used  such  precautions. 

I  will  pass  lightly  over  the  events  of  our 
journey  to  Sitka,  through  the  inland  nar- 
rows which  have  been  so  ably  described 
by  others.  We  were  fortunate  in  securing 
passage  on  the  Queen  with  Captain  Carroll, 
whose  pleasant  and  cordial  treatment  did 
much  to  make  the  journey  enjoyable;  and 
his  knowledge  of  the  country  assisted  us 
greatly.  We  passed  Wrangel,  the  Nar- 
rows, Douglas  Island,  Juneau,  and  arrived 
at  Glacier  Bay  on  June  23.     At  first  sight 

278 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


the  Muir  Glacier  was  disappointing,  my 
imagination  having  pictured  a  more  mag- 
nificent field  of  ice  ;  but  on  climbing  a 
little  hill,  I  soon  beheld  the  extensive  neve, 
the  rocky  islets  and  long  moraines  extend- 
ing twelve  or  fifteen  miles  northward,  the 
regular  and  beautiful  curves  only  limited 
by  the  surrounding  peaks,  whose  summits 
rose  above  the  intervening  fleecy  clouds. 
At  noon  the  mist  cleared,  and  our  sail  out 
of  Glacier  Bay  will  long  be  remembered 
as  one  of  the  most  delightful  in  my  experi- 
ence. Some  bergs  of  ice  floating  majes- 
tically, with  their  different  forms,  and  hues 
varying  from  deep  azure  to  pale  blue, 
mingled  with  others  where  the  morainal 
material  had  changed  the  color  to  a  dark 
brown.  Very  skilful  manoeuvring  was  re- 
quired to  take  the  vessel  through  these 
masses  of  floating  ice,  and  many  were  the 
comments  on  the  splendid  seamanship  of 
our  skipper.  Here,  in  the  crisp  morning 
air,  we  had  a  fine  view  of  the  Fairweather 
group,  uplifting  their  snowy  crests,  a  bar- 
rier to  the  scene  eastward.  The  immense 
fields  of  ice  and  snow  made  us  shudder, 
even  from  our  great  distance,  as  we  thought 
of  crossing  them ;  and  we  turned  with  pleas- 
ure to  the  comfortable  surroundings  of  our 
good  ship. 

279 


Mount  St.  Ettas  and  its  Glaciers 


We  arrived  at  Sitka  early  on  the  morn- 
ing of  June  24,  and  after  arranging  every 
detail  with  Governor  Knapp  and  the  naval 
authorities,  transferred  our  stores  to  the 
United  States  steamer  Pinta ;  and  Captain 
Farenhalt,  U.  S.  Navy,  made  everything 
ready  to  start  for  Yakutat  Bay  early  the 
next  morning. 

We  entered  Yakutat  Bay  June  26,  an- 
choring off  the  Indian  village  ;  but  during 
our  stay  there  it  rained  continuously,  and 
we  did  not  even  catch  a  glimpse  of  St. 
Elias,  much  to  our  regret. 

On  the  morning  of  June  28  we  started 
up  the  bay,  Lieutenant  Karl  Jungen,  U.S. 
Navy,  and  myself  leading  in  the  whale- 
boat,  followed  by  our  flotilla  of  canoes. 
We  secured  the  Moravian  missionary  at 
Mulgrave,  Mr.  Hendrickson,  for  guide ; 
and  he  also  afterward  read  my  barometer 
at  the  Mission,  giving  a  reference-point 
for  all  barometric  observations. 

In  the  afternoon  the  Pinta's  boats,  after 
giving  us  three  cheers,  left  to  rejoin  the 
ship  ;  and  we  turned  to  in  the  rain  to  make 
ourselves  as  comfortable  as  possible,  realiz- 
ing that  our  work  had  begun  in  sober  ear- 
nest. At  this  juncture  my  assistant,  Mr. 
Edward  Hosmer  of  Washington,  who  had 
been  quite  sick  for  a  few  days,  was  taken 

280 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


so  ill  that  he  was  obliged  to  return  to  Mul- 
grave  village,  and  thence  to  Sitka.  Our 
party  then  consisted  of  Israel  C.  Russell,  ge- 
ologist ;  Mark  B.  Kerr,  topographer  ;  J.  H. 
Christie,  foreman ;  and  Lester  Doney,  Wil- 
liam Partridge,  Jack  Crumback,  William 
L.  Lindsly,  Tom  White,  and  Tom  Stamy, 
woodsmen. 

On  the  29th,  with  two  men  and  a  load 
of  stores,  I  started  ahead,  and  the  next  day 
succeeded  in  landing  on  the  north  shore  of 
Yakutat  Bay,  great  care  being  used  to  avoid 
the  masses  of  ice  which,  breaking  off  from 
the  Hubbard  and  Dalton  Glaciers  above  us, 
crunched  and  grounded  here  on  the  beach, 

281 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


threatening  to  destroy  our  frail  canoe.  The 
bay  narrows  here  to  about  three  miles,  and 
opens  farther  inland  into  another  one  known 
as  Disenchantment  Bay.  Looking  up  the 
bay,  one  sees  a  verdure-clad  shore,  above 
which  rises  a  vertical  wall  of  ice  fully  three 
hundred  feet,  the  end  of  the  Hubbard  Gla- 
cier, over  which  tower  the  great  snowy 
peaks,  Vancouver,  Hubbard,  Shepard,  and 
Bozman.  Here  I  had  a  lesson  in  surf- 
landing;  but  it  took  me  some  time  to  learn 
a  trick  so  readily  accomplished  by  even  the 
smallest  native  boys.  They  usually  wait 
for  a  fair  chance  between  the  high  waves, 
and  then  rush  in,  and  the  canoe  is  quickly 
hauled  up  out  of  reach  of  the  surf.  Many 
were  the  duckings  we  had  before  this  could 
be  done  in  safety. 

I  had  my  first  experience  in  the  snow 
on  July  3,  and  was  greatly  surprised  to 
find  it  lying  so  low  down  on  the  slope. 
The  snow-line  here  is  about  one  thousand 
five  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  and  is  as 
clearly  marked  as  in  the  Sierras  of  Cali- 
fornia. Moss,  shrubs,  and  berries  grew  in 
great  profusion  along  the  bay  shore,  and 
over  the  moraine  a  regular  trail  was  formed 
as  the  large  brown  bears  crossed  and  re- 
crossed  in  search  of  food  or  berries.  The 
glacial    stream    divided    into    a    thousand 

282 


Mount  St.  Ettas  and  its  Glaciers 

branches,  and  formed  an  ideal  delta,  de- 
positing silt  and  glacial  debris.  Our  course 
took  us  over  a  mountain  spur,  and  across 
an  interior  basin  about  one  thousand  five 
hundred  feet  in  height,  filled  with  nume- 
rous lakes,  and  swarming  with  mosquitoes. 
Indeed,  there  were  such  myriads  of  the 
latter  that  imagination  suggested  that  each 
flake  of  snow  had  concealed  within  it  a 
germ,  and  thus  the  mosquito  had  gene- 
rated. Here  it  is  said  that  sometimes  huge 
brown  bears,  driven  to  fury  and  desperation 
by  these  tormenting  little  beasts,  finally 
tear  their  flesh,  and  die  in  agony.  This 
was  the  first  high  ridge  we  crossed  with 
our  packs,  and  very  glad  were  we  to  view 
the  other  side. 

Our  course  took  us  to  the  head  of  Dal- 
ton  River,  where  a  curious  phenomenon 
was  observed.  The  water  was  flowing  out 
of  an  icy  cavern,  above  which  was  a  stra- 
tum of  ice,  rock,  and  dirt,  on  the  surface 
of  which  bushes  and  trees  were  growing. 
This  formation  was  gradually  caving  in, 
and  borne  by  the  stream  to  the  sea.  The 
same  phenomenon  was  seen  at  Styx  River, 
farther  on,  across  the  Lucia  Glacier. 

Crevasses  were  wide  and  deep,  cutting 
the  ice  in  fantastic  shapes.  We  advanced 
slowly  during  the  next  three  weeks,  abso- 

283 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


lutely  feeling  our  way  over  the  rough  mo- 
raines ;  two  miles  a  day  was  heavy  travel- 
ling, and  it  took  several  trips  to  bring  up 
all  our  camp  outfit  and  tins  of  provisions. 
The  rocks  tore  our  shoe-leather  and  cut 
our  feet,  and  human  endurance  was  exerted 
to  the  utmost  to  force  our  way  over  this 
rough  and  icy  glacier. 

Happily  sufficient  vegetation  was  found 
on  the  lower  slopes  to  afford  fuel.  We 
crossed  several  swift  and  icy-cold  streams, 
and  numerous  curious  holes  or  kettles  in 
the  glacier,  where  great  care  was  necessary, 
as  a  single  misstep  meant  a  fall  of  many 
hundred  feet. 

On  July  25  I  went  ahead  with  one  man, 
to  prospect  the  Kettle  Canon  and  the  Hay- 
den  Glacier.  We  took  an  oil-stove  and  a 
small  outfit,  and  even  then  we  had  to  carry 
about  forty  or  fifty  pounds  each.  At  the 
head  of  this  canon,  Hayden  Glacier  has  a 
width  of  two  miles.  Across  the  glacier, 
a  point  of  the  ridge  came  down  covered 
with  spruce-trees.  Flowers,  grasses,  and 
ferns  were  growing  luxuriantly  around 
me ;  and  as  I  rested  in  the  soft  moss,  and 
looked  over  a  cathedral  mass  of  rock  from 
a  lupine  bed  of  beautiful  colors,  I  seemed 
to  breathe  the  atmosphere  of  the  Tropics, 
rather  than  of  the  Arctic. 

284 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


Head  of  the  Dalton  River —  water  flowing  from  an  icy  cavern. 

The  Hayden  —  the  third  glacier  of  great 
importance  on  our  route  —  begins  with  a 
surface  of  hard  ice  about  two  or  three 
miles  in  width,  and  gradually  ends  in  a 
huge  moraine  of  dirt,  rocks,  and  ice,  belch- 
ing its  contents  into  Yakutat  Bay.  As  you 
proceed  up  the  glacier,  the  slopes  on  both 
sides  become  perpendicular.  Huge  massive 
slate  and  sandstone  ridges  rise  up  on  both 
sides,  clear-cut  and  defined,  with  niches 
like  an  open  fan.      After  a  few  miles,  the 

285 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


upper  level  is  reached  ;  and  then  the  jour- 
ney is  made  through  soft  snow,  sinking  in 
over  boot-tops  at  every  step,  and  progress  is 
slow  and  difficult. 

Toward  evening  of  the  25th  we  had 
reached  an  elevation  of  twenty-five  hun- 
dred feet,  and  here  found  a  slope  with  a 
few  loose  rocks  deposited  at  an  angle  of 
about  thirty  degrees.  We  riprapped  the 
bottom  of  the  slope  to  prevent  slipping 
down  the  hill,  and  here  made  camp.  All 
around  was  a  snowy  expanse  broken  into 
curious  shapes,  with  nothing  living  except  a 
raven,  which  suddenly  and  hoarsely  croaked 
above  our  heads.  I  felt  like  offering  the 
bird  an  apology  for  being  there. 

The  next  day  we  tried  two  points  of  the 
ridge,  but  could  not  cross  over  on  account 
of  the  crevasses.  However,  we  found  a 
more  desirable  point  of  rock  upon  which  to 
pitch  camp.  The  day  after,  in  a  fog,  we 
went  up  toward  the  last  promising  pass, 
and  at  the  top  of  the  divide  were  met  by 
a  berg  schriinder,  which  stretched  across  the 
slope  about  six  to  ten  feet  wide,  and  about 
five  hundred  feet  in  depth.  The  walls  of 
these  crevasses  were  laminated  ;  and  each 
year's  snow  was  easily  discerned  by  its  dif- 
ference in  color,  radiating  like  the  rings  of 
a  tree. 


286 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


As  I  looked  into  the  depths  of  the 
crevasse,  I  grew  bewildered  in  endeavor- 
ing to  discover  its  age,  and  pictured  to 
myself  the  time  when  almost  the  whole 
world  was  an  ice-field,  grinding  and  twist- 
ing out  forms  so  familiar  to  us  at  places 
where  now  one  could  scarcely  believe  the 
ice  had  ever  formed.  Here,  on  the  ex- 
treme summit  of  one  of  these  sandstone 
ridges,  I  discovered  a  hill  of  fossil  mussel- 
shells,  and  also  ferns  and  flowers,  embedded 
in  the  rock,  evidences  of  a  great  ocean 
once  rolling  over  these  rock  masses.  The 
fog  still  continued ;  and  as  I  lay  in  my 
rocky  perch,  protected  from  the  pelting 
rain  by  only  a  canvas  sheet,  I  was  suddenly 
startled  by  a  dreadful  report,  as  an  avalanche 
of  ice  and  rock,  detached  by  the  rain, 
came  thundering  down  the  mountain  slope. 
These  immense  ice-fields,  split  up  by  huge 
crevasses,  assume  all  sorts  of  shapes.  Com- 
bining the  shadows  and  effects  of  the  sur- 
rounding patches  of  massive  rock  left  here 
and  there,  imagination  runs  riot.  I  could 
see  a  picture  where  white-robed  choristers 
and  surpliced  priests  passed  in  endless  file, 
while  the  huge  black  masses  of  shaly  rock 
of  the  higher  peaks  stood  out  like  the 
spires  of  a  mighty  cathedral,  the  lower 
slopes,  the  pipes  of  an  immense  organ,  to 

287 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


which  picture  the  thunder  of  the  avalanche 
supplied  the  deep  diapason. 

On  the  28th,  after  a  hard  struggle,  we 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  summit  of  the 
pass,  and  were  rewarded  by  a  few  hours 
of  clear  weather.  St.  Elias,  Augusta,  and 
Cook  burst  upon  us  in  all  their  glory, 
rivalling  anything  I  had  ever  before  seen. 
Here  were  deep  crevasses,  high  domes, 
hummocks,  and  bergs  of  ice,  and  above 
towered  the  huge  peaks,  sharp  and  steep. 
But  soon  the  fog  arose,  and  we  were 
forced  to  return.  We  spent  a  most  mis- 
erable and  wet  night.  In  the  very  early 
morning,  as  the  rain  gradually  loosened 
the  rocky  and  icy  debris,  and  the  pieces 
went  whizzing  by,  threatening  to  ingulf 
us,  we  were  forced  to  move  out.  It  was  a 
rough  trip;  but  we  reached  Kettle  Canon, 
wet  to  the  skin,  and  found  the  main  camp 
moved  ahead  to  Blossom  Island,  where  we 
spent  the  next  few  days  in  examining  the 
ice  formations  and  extending  triangulation. 

This  was  an  oasis  in  a  desert  of  surround- 
ing ice,  —  the  last  point  where  we  found 
wood,  and  a  most  beautiful  spot,  completely 
environed  by  a  glacial  stream.  The  flora 
here  was  abundant  and  varied.  Lupines 
of  all  colors,  bluebells,  and  ferns  of  every 
description   flourished   in  rank  profusion ; 

288 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 

while  clusters  of  wild  currants  and  salmon- 
berries  grew  in  immense  quantities,  the 
latter,  especially,  to  an  enormous  size,  in 
this  damp  but  equable  temperature.  In- 
deed, the  thermometer  scarcely  varied 
during  the  day  more  than  five  degrees 
from  an  average  of  fifty  degrees,  but  the 
rain  was  heavy  and  continuous.  During 
the  night  the  thermometer  fell,  sometimes 
reaching  freezing-point.  In  the  winter  the 
temperature  falls  to  just  below  freezing- 
point  ;  and  this  rain,  converted  into  snow, 
piles  up  in  immense  quantities. 

A  few  bumble-bees  and  house-flies  were 
noted  ;  and  the  mosquito  still  held  its  own, 
rendering  a  trip  through  the  thickets  and 
underbrush  almost  an  impossibility.  There 
were  quite  a  number  of  ptarmigan  and 
whistling  marmots ;  and,  although  signs 
of  bear  were  numerous,  we  saw  none. 
From  this,  our  last  point  of  vegetation, 
we  decided  to  start  a  reconnoissance  trip 
to  explore  the  route  toward  St.  Elias  and 
Cook,  now  in  full  view  from  our  camp  at 
the  summit  of  Blossom  Island. 

On  Aug.  2  we  started  up  the  glacier, 
which  we  named  "Marvine,"  and  camped, 
during  a  storm  of  rain,  on  a  ledge  of  rock 
at  an  elevation  of  twenty-five  hundred  feet 
above  the  sea.     We  passed  a  very  disagree- 

291 


ftlount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


able  night.  The  rain  continued  loosening 
the  rocks  and  debris  above  us ;  and  soon 
these  came  whizzing  by,  too  close  for 
comfort.  When  one  large  rock  struck 
my  alpenstock,  which  was  used  for  a  tent- 
pole,  and  diverted  its  course  just  enough  to 
miss  cracking  open  my  skull,  I  thought  we 
had  best  move  camp ;  so  down  in  the  snow 
we  moved,  through  the  rain,  and  spent  the 
rest  of  the  night  huddled  over  an  oil-stove, 
and  enjoyed  a  good  cup  of  coffee,  brewed 
at  the  early  hour  of  three  a.m. 

The  next  day  we  found  a  very  comfort- 
able camping-place  in  hard  snow,  which 
we  covered  with  dirt  and  rocks  from  the 
moraine.  The  grade  ahead  seemed  easy  ; 
but  a  storm  again  beginning,  we  took  shel- 
ter in  an  ice  grotto,  where  the  drippings 
from  the  roof  gave  us  delicious  drinking- 
water,  and  rendered  our  hard-tack  and 
cold  bacon  more  palatable.  The  crevasses 
here  are  clean-cut,  deep,  and  without  much 
ornamentation;  and  the  ice,  of  a  dark  blue, 
gives  a  rather  subdued  effect. 

The  next  morning  the  sun  shone  out 
strong  and  warm  ;  and  the  rays  dancing 
over  the  surface  of  the  crystallized  snow 
glittered  like  clusters  of  diamonds,  and 
soon  put  new  life  and  vigor  into  our  half- 
frozen  limbs.     We  moved  over  Pinnacle 

292 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


Pass  at  an  elevation  of  4,200  feet.  From 
here  we  could  see  the  black  ridges  and 
lower  points  of  the  Rogers  Range  ;  while  a 
large  glacier  extended  in  front,  and  turned 
northward  out  of  our  sight.  We  named 
it  the  "  Seward."  It  was  the  largest  we 
had  seen,  and  cut  up  and  crevassed  in  curves 
like  ribbons  of  watered  silk.  The  day  was 
clear ;  and  the  huge  glacier  was  seen  to 
slope  seaward  in  gentle,  undulating  curves, 
—  a  peaceful,  icy  river,  broken  only  by 
its  fall  into  the  Malaspina  Glacier.  It 
looked  so  much  like  the  sea  that  one  of 
our  men  exclaimed,  "Look  at  the  ocean ! " 
But  between  us  and  the  sea  extended  the 
mighty  Malaspina  Glacier,  which  covers 
the  whole  side  of  Yakutat  Bay.  We  made 
our  camp  for  the  night  under  a  sandstone 
ledge,  where  the  water  was  flowing  over 
the  old  ice.  It  may  seem  strange  to  hear 
of  our  hunting  for  water  in  this  land  of 
ice ;  but  the  cascades,  formed  away  up  on 
the  slopes,  plunge  down  huge  crevasses,  and 
disappear  under  the  snowy  bed.  Some- 
times we  were  forced  to  use  our  small 
supply  of  oil  to  melt  the  snow  for  the 
water  needed  in  our  cooking.  Our  camp 
was  on  the  east  side  of  the  Seward  Glacier, 
which  extended  far  northward  to  the  base 
of  the    main    range.     St.   Elias  —  silent, 

293 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


massive,  dark,  rugged,  and  sharp  —  lay 
right  in  front,  while  Augusta  stood  like 
an  immense  haystack,  a  gable,  on  the 
right ;  the  snow  banners  floating  quietly 
by,  covering  and  uncovering  these  beauti- 
ful and  grand  mountains  fully  ten  thousand 
feet  above  us.  We  held  our  breath  in 
silent  awe,  and  wondered  at  our  audacity 
in  attempting  to  scale  the  dizzy  heights. 

The  Seward  Glacier  is  a  natural  divide 
between  the  ridge  through  which  we  had 
forced  our  way  and  the  main  range.  So 
one  part  of  the  problem  was  solved,  and 


294 


Mount  St.  Etias  and  its  Glaciers 

we  discovered  that  there  was  no  main 
range  parallel  to  the  coast ;  while  angu- 
lation determined  another  point,  and  that 
was  that  the  elevation  had  been  very  much 
over-estimated,  and  St.  Elias  was  much 
lower  than  19,500  feet.  The  ranges  are 
all  broken  by  immense  faults,  and  it  was 
owing  to  such  structure  that  Pinnacle  Pass 
was  found  so  easy  of  passage. 

We  moved  slowly  along,  loud  reports  re- 
sounding on  all  sides ;  and  avalanches  rushed 
down  as  the  sun  gradually  melted  the  snow. 
Keeping  well  out  into  the  middle  of  the 
glacier,  we  felt  safe.  Soon,  however,  we 
were  forced  by  the  rough  ice  and  cre- 
vasses to  the  side  of  the  glacier,  and,  climb- 
ing a  ridge,  our  farther  progress  seemed 
barred ;  so  we  camped  on  a  ledge  about 
one  hundred  feet  above  the  ice,  with  just 
room  enough  to  pitch  our  jxj  tent,  into 
which  we  four  men  crawled,  —  a  sardine 
pack  truly.  The  glacier  groaned,  the  ice 
crunched,  and  huge  pieces  fell  in  here 
and  there  with  a  loud  noise,  as  the  pres- 
sure from  above  was  felt.  There  was 
more  perceptible  movement  here  than  in 
any  other  glacier.  We  estimated  it  at 
about  fifteen  feet  a  day.  The  Seward 
Glacier  is  limited  by  a  range  on  the  north, 
the  highest  point  of  which  we  named  Lo- 

295 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


gan,*  in  honor  of  the  late  Director  of  the 
Geological  Survey  of  Canada. 

The  blocks  of  ice  here  were  like  huge 
Christmas  cakes,  and  often  during  the  night 
we  could  actually  feel  the  glacier  move. 
And  when  the  rain  came  pelting  down, 
and  the  wind  blew  furiously,  and  pieces 
of  ice  toppled  over  with  a  noise  like  a 
pistol-shot,  we  wondered  when  we  would 
again  be  out  of  danger. 

Two  of  our  men  had  gone  back  for  pro- 
visions, and  on  the  1 7th  we  became  a  little 
anxious  about  them.  The  sunset  on  this 
night  was  superb.  The  shadows  began  to 
lengthen,  and  the  huge  peaks  reflected  their 
long  summits  on  the  snowy  surface  like 
enormous  arms.  To  the  west  stretched 
the  main  breadth  of  the  glacier,  fully  ten 
miles  across,  with  many  branches  cut  up  by 
concave  crevasses,  which,  though  twisted 
and  irregular,  were  connected  by  small 
bridges  of  snow,  sometimes  scarcely  a  foot 
in  width ;  all  followed  a  regular  curve 
of  cleavage  caused  by  the  contraction  of 
the  ice,  the  strain,  and  subsequent  move- 
ment. 

The  peaks  of  the  Yakutat  Bay  spurs, 
and   the   point   of  Cook,  presented  their 

*  The  United  States  Coast  and  Geodetic  Survey  Expedition 
of  1892  accurately  measured  Mount  Logan,  and  found  it  19,500 
feet,  the  highest  peak  of  the  St.  Elias  range. 

296 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


sharpest  angles  toward  us,  and  the  sand- 
stone cliffs  standing  above  the  snow  could 
easily  be  mistaken  for  volcanic  dikes.  We 
could  readily  understand  how  St.  Elias, 
Cook,  and  other  peaks  of  the  range  pre- 
senting to  the  sea  their  upturned  angular 
strata,  and  consequently  sharpest,  steepest 
slopes,  have  been  mistaken  for  volcanoes. 
It  was  bewildering  to  watch  these  snow- 
fields,  which  in  the  setting  sun  were  not 
luminous,  but  a  fine,  clear,  white  expanse, 
gradually  assuming  a  darker  hue  as  the  sun 
gradually  dropped  behind  St.  Elias. 

We  smiled  to  think  of  the  great  care 
taken  by  Alpine  guides,  forbidding  even  a 
whisper  upon  the  Mer  de  Glace,  or  a  jour- 
ney without  a  guide  upon  the  glacier.  If 
such  a  mountaineer  were  suddenly  trans- 
ported to  the  great  Seward  Glacier,  and  felt 
the  glacier  tremble,  and  listened  to  the  con- 
stantly falling  avalanches  from  the  crags  of 
Elias  and  Cook,  I  imagine  he  would  throw 
away  his  alpenstock,  and  flee  in  dismay. 

On  the  1 8th  of  August,  our  men  having 
returned  with  oil  and  provisions,  we  moved 
directly  toward  Mount  St.  Elias.  I  blacked 
my  face,  and  wore  netting  and  heavy  gog- 
gles, as  the  glare  from  the  ice  was  terrific. 
We  crossed  the  Dome  Pass,  leading  over 
into    the  Agassiz   Glacier ;    and,   looking 

297 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


ahead,  the  route  seemed  blocked  by  cre- 
vasses and  ice-falls.  This  was  the  glacier 
discovered  by  Schwatka  and  Seton  Karr ; 
but  they  were  not  aware  of  its  extent.  It 
was  slow  work  clambering  through  the 
crevasses,  heading  some  and  cutting  our 
way  through  others ;  but  with  care  we 
reached  the  first  ice-fall  about  noon.  Here 
we  were  forced  to  cut  steps  in  the  ice,  but 
after  reaching  the  summit  were  turned  back 
by  a  huge  crevasse.  Finally  we  cut  our 
way  down  into  it  until  it  was  narrow 
enough  to  straddle  ;  and  we  then  gradually 
cut  our  way  up  on  the  opposite  side,  the 
first  man  being  lowered  by  a  rope.  Great 
care  was  used  ;  for  if  a  slip  occurred,  a 
man  might  lose  his  life,  or  be  frightfully 
maimed,  these  crevasses  often  being  over 
five  hundred  feet  in  depth. 

Afterward  we  were  forced  to  the  centre 
of  the  glacier,  and  had  fairly  good  travel- 
ling until  we  reached  the  second  ice-fall. 
Here  we  found  an  opening  through  which 
a  stream  was  flowing  over  the  old  and  hard 
ice,  but  with  a  gentle  current,  not  enough 
to  impede  us.  We  waded  along  this,  knee- 
deep,  until  every  bone  in  our  bodies  seemed 
frozen;  and  we  were  obliged  to  camp  on 
the  snow,  where  our  oil-stove  helped  us  a 
little  toward  comfort.      It  was  cold,  wet, 

298. 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


and  uncomfortable;  but  at  midnight  I  took 
an  observation,  for  latitude,  on  Polaris.  The 
stars  were  very  brilliant,  shedding  a  gentle, 
reflected  light  on  the  snowy  surface.  This 
was  the  first  time  I  had  succeeded  in  taking 
an  observation,  as  the  midnight  sun  had 
been  too  brilliant  before,  and  the  stars  con- 
sequently dim. 

The  next  morning,  looking  ahead,  the 
old  snowy  surface  seemed  passable  ;  but  as 
soon  as  the  grade  increased  we  were  forced 
to  give  it  up,  the  new  snow  not  being 
hard  enough  to  bear  our  weight,  and  too 
deep  to  struggle  through.  Our  eyes  were 
troubling  us  badly,  despite  our  goggles, 
about  this  time  ;  and  we  made  a  temporary 
camp  on  a  bare  spot  of  rocks  under  the 
cliff.  With  one  man  I  again  went  ahead 
to  prospect  a  route,  and  had  almost  given 
it  up;  but  taking  advantage  of  a  lead 
around  a  huge  detached  piece  of  ice,  we 
gained  new  hope,  and  went  up  to  the  first 
crevasse.  We  crossed  by  a  very  narrow 
and  dangerous  ice-bridge,  with  the  aid  of 
a  rope,  and  found  a  branch  of  the  lower 
crevasse  heading  against  the  main  one,  and 
forming  an  acute  angle  in  the  shape  of 
an  irregular  K,  the  intersection  being  very 
narrow,  and  a  perpendicular  wall  of  snow 
overhanging  at  the  upper  angle.      We  cut 

299 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


our  way  right  through  this  snow-wall,  and 
after  a  little  tough  climbing  reached  the 
top  of  the  exposed  cliff.  Letting  down 
about  one  hundred  feet  of  rope,  we  made 
it  fast  to  some  large  bowlders,  and  soon 
descended  to  camp,  where  a  hot  cup  of 
coffee  rewarded  us  for  our  exertion. 

The  next  day  we  climbed  up  the  cliff, 
and  hauled  up  our  outfit.  Here,  after 
many  set-backs  and  tumbles,  we  succeeded 
in  reaching  another  small  glacial  stream, 
and  judged  ourselves  about  eight  miles 
from  the  summit  of  Elias,  at  an  elevation 
of  five  thousand  feet. 

On  Aug.  22  we  started  in  earnest  our 
climb  toward  the  summit.  The  slope  was 
gradual,  but  everything  was  a  line  of  pure 
white ;  neither  light  nor  shadow  was  ap- 
parent. One  of  our  party  called  out  that 
he  couldn't  see,  but  was  afterward  com- 
forted when  he  found  that  we  were  all 
in  an  equally  bad  case,  being  obliged  to 
thrust  our  alpenstocks  in  front  of  us  to  see 
whether  or  no  we  were  going  up  a  slope 
or  down  a  hollow. 

We  found  some  immense  crevasses  here, 
from  five  hundred  to  one  thousand  feet  in 
depth.  Huge  pendent  icicles  with  pris- 
matic hues  and  crystals  of  ice  of  every 
color   reflected    their   tips   on    the    glassy 

300 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


slopes.  Here,  looking  back,  we  had  a 
beautiful  view  over  the  old  snow  on  the 
lower  slopes,  with  a  yellowish  tinge  like 


Hubbard  Glacier. 


rich  cream,  while  the  new  snow  around 
us  was  dry,  mealy,  and  white  as  the  purest 
flour.  Snow  halos  and  banners  hovered 
round  Cook  and  other  peaks,  and  in  their 
changing  color  and  shadow  rivalled,  if  not 
surpassed,  anything  of  the  kind  I  had  ever 
before  witnessed.  The  scene  changed  al- 
most in  a  moment ;  and  the  storm-clouds 
went  skurrying  by,  spreading  a  black  man- 
tle over  the  white  surface.  The  snow 
began  falling,  for  we  had  reached  an  eleva- 


301 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


tion  by  aneroid  of  nine  thousand  feet. 
Above  us,  about  five  thousand  feet,  was 
the  peak,  which  sloped  at  an  angle  of 
thirty  degrees  to  a  low  saddle,  the  crest  of 
the  main  range.  We  judged  the  divide 
to  be  two  thousand  five  hundred  feet  above 
us.  This  was  the  point  we  desired  to 
reach,  and  camp  in  for  the  night.  All  our 
hard  work  was  over.  The  ice-falls,  the 
deep  crevasses,  and  rough  glaciers  lay  be- 
hind ;  and  nothing  but  the  slope  of  the 
main  peak,  with  its  hard  and  regular  crust 
of  snow,  lay  ahead.  We  breathed  a  sigh 
of  relief  as  we  realized  that  our  work  was 
nearly  over.  However,  the  snow-storm 
increased  ;  so  we  descended  to  our  camp 
at  the  glacial  lake,  caching  all  our  instru- 
ments at  the  highest  point. 

The  storm  continued  to  increase,  and  in 
the  morning  the  snow  had  drifted  nearly 
over  our  tent.  Our  little  glacial  lake  had 
frozen,  and  was  completely  covered  by  the 
drift.  The  storm  still  raged ;  but  at  noon, 
a  lull  occurring,  we  decided  to  pull  out, 
and  return  to  a  lower  camp  for  more  pro- 
visions. We  took  turns  in  breaking  our 
way  through  the  snow,  barely  able  in  the 
mist  to  see  our  hands  before  our  faces,  and 
absolutely  wading  through  the  heavy  drifts. 
We  advanced  very  slowly   for  fear   of  a 

302 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


covered  crevasse,  and  six  in  the  evening 
found  us  under  the  cliff;  but  it  was  still  too 
foggy  to  discover  the  snow-steps.  We  dug 
a  hole  about  ten  feet  square  and  about  six 
feet  deep  in  the  snow,  and  pitching  our 
tent,  crawled  in.  The  next  morning  it 
partly  cleared,  and  we  found  ourselves  just 
about  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  from  the 
ice-steps.  Here,  letting  myself  down  with 
a  rope,  I  recut  the  steps  in  the  snow;  and 
after  a  hard  struggle  through  the  drifts  we 
reached  our  former  camp  at  the  foot  of 
the  cliff,  and  were  soon  as  comfortable  as 
the  circumstances  permitted. 

After  due  deliberation  I  determined  to 
return,  with  Mr.  Russell,  to  the  upper 
camp,  and  again  attempt  Elias ;  while  the 
other  men,  Lindsly  and  Stamy,  were  sent 
to  our  cache  at  Camp  4  for  more  provis- 
ions and  oil.  The  boys  left  us  quite  early, 
as  they  had  about  twenty  miles  to  make ; 
and  we,  taking  our  time,  clambered  up  the 
cliff,  and  arrived  at  our  old  "  dugout "  in 
the  snow  about  noon.  We  stopped  here 
to  take  a  rest,  but  discovered  that  the  oil 
was  dangerously  low ;  and  as  the  burning 
of  grease  with  improvised  wicks  was  a 
slow  and  unsatisfactory  arrangement,  I  de- 
termined to  leave  Russell  to  pursue  alone 
the  two  miles  to  the  upper  lake,  and  pushed 

303 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


back  to  reach  our  men  at  the  lower  camp. 
I  felt  in  line  condition,  and  travelled  at 
a  dog-trot  down-hill  over  the  hard  snow 
surface,  and  overtook  the  boys  in  camp 
below,  going  over  the  distance  in  six  hours. 
Here  I  found  a  can  of  oil,  and  shared  their 
bed  and  supper.  We  tried  to  get  a  little 
sleep,  but  were  awakened  by  a  sudden  rain- 
storm, which  started  about  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  We  were  forced  to  get 
up,  cold  and  wet ;  but,  making  a  fire  out 
of  the  wooden  box  protecting  the  oil-can, 
ate  our  ham  and  beans  with  great  gusto. 
Leaving  the  boys  to  pursue  their  journey 
to  Camp  4,  I  started  back  to  reach  Rus- 
sell. It  got  colder  and  colder  as  I  ad- 
vanced. The  wind  and  rain  blew  in  my 
face,  and  soon  soaked  through  my  rubber 
clothing.  I  became  like  a  wet  rag.  At 
the  first  ice-fall  it  was  sleeting,  and  I  had 
some  difficulty  in  climbing  the  steep  and 
icy  slopes  with  my  heavy  pack.  I  reached 
our  old  camp  under  the  cliff  at  five  p.m. 
Resting  a  moment,  I  climbed  up  the  rocky 
wall,  and  reached  the  upper  slope.  Here 
it  was  snowing  fiercely  in  great  flakes.  I 
trudged  ahead,  but  soon  every  vestige  of 
our  old  trail  was  covered,  and  I  wallowed 
in  the  deep  snow.  It  was  then  about  six 
p.m.;   and  fearing  that  I  might  be  buried 

304 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


here  in  the  depth  of  snow,  I  made  the 
best  of  my  way  back  to  the  lower  camp. 
I  reached  the  cliff  about  eight  o'clock,  the 
storm  being  terrific  in  force.  I  tugged  at 
the  rope,  but  found  it  caught  at  the  bot- 
tom, so  I  kept  on  my  pack,  and  clambered 
down.  At  best,  the  cliff  was  a  nasty  place  ; 
and  loaded  as  I  was,  and  tired  out,  I  slipped 
while  half-way  down,  and  turned  to  grasp 
the  rope.  I  could  not  hold  on,  so  fell 
headlong  the  rest  of  the  distance.  A  flash- 
ing thought  of  the  hard  ice  and  deep  cre- 
vasse at  the  bottom  was  obscured  in  my 
surprise  at  landing  in  soft  snow.  I  soon 
got  up,  shook  myself,  and  finding  no  bones 
broken,  made  the  best  of  my  way  to  the 
old  camp.  The  weight  of  the  new  snow 
had  caused  an  avalanche,  burying  the  end 
of  the  rope,  and  filling  the  crevasse  at  the 
bottom.  This  had  happened  since  my 
last  trip,  —  a  lucky  accident,  and  to  it  I 
owe  my  life.  At  my  camp  was  a  rubber 
blanket ;  so,  bracing  it  with  an  alpenstock, 
I  made  an  improvised  tent,  the  ends  being 
fastened  with  large  snowballs ;  the  snow 
rapidly  filled  in  round  my  tent,  and  I  was 
soon  comfortably  sleeping.  I  woke  up 
hungry  during  the  night,  and  finding  a  lit- 
tle oatmeal,  made  a  hasty-pudding,  which 
appeased  my  appetite  a  little. 

305 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 

Early  the  next  morning  (the  27th)  the 
temperature  rose,  and  it  began  to  rain. 
Then  my  troubles  began.  Everything 
was  absolutely  soaking.  I  did  not  mind 
it  much  during  the  day,  but  as  the  night 
grew  colder  I  soon  became  benumbed.  I 
kept  up  the  circulation  as  much  as  possible, 
but  was  so  stiff  in  the  morning  that  I  could 
scarcely  move.  Luckily  it  cleared  ;  and 
the  sun  coming  out,  I  stretched  out  my 
hands  toward  its  genial  rays,  and  could 
readily  imagine  how  men  could  bow  down 
in  silent  adoration  of  such  glorious  warmth. 
New  strength  and  energy  were  imparted 
into  my  frozen  limbs.  I  found  my  feet 
and  hands  a  little  frost-bitten,  but  plunged 
them  at  intervals  in  the  snow.  I  had  time 
to  dry  out  somewhat  before  attempting 
to  reach  Russell,  two  miles  above,  where 
I  knew  food  and  warmth  awaited  me. 
Thirty  hours  on  raw  oatmeal  I  soon  found 
was  not  travelling  diet  through  soft  snow 
about  four  feet  deep ;  so  after  going  half 
a  mile  I  was  forced  to  give  it  up,  and  re- 
turn again  to  my  camp.  As  I  lay  there 
in  my  snowy  camp,  I  began  to  wonder 
if  I  should  be  found  in  future  ages,  pre- 
served in  glacier  ice  like  a  mammoth  or 
cave-bear,  as  an  illustration  to  geologists 
that  man  inhabited  these  regions  of  eter- 

306 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


nal  ice,  and  lived  happily  on  nothing, 
breathing  the  free  air  of  prehistoric  times. 

Soon  it  became  quite  cold  ;  and,  dream- 
ing of  more  delightful  scenes,  I  heard  a 
shout,  and  in  a  little  while  four  of  the 
men  came  in  with  supplies.  I  took  a  piece 
of  chocolate  and  corned  beef,  and  felt  bet- 
ter. They  had  been  delayed  by  the  storm, 
and  were  anxious  about  our  safety.  We 
made  a  cup  of  beef-tea  over  an  improvised 
lamp,  which  braced  me  considerably.  We 
started  the  next  day  (the  29th),  quite  early, 
to  reach  Russell,  as  we  imagined  he  might 
be  a  little  lonely.  We  forced  our  way 
through  the  snow,  and  about  half-way  met 
him  slowly  coming  toward  us,  bringing  a 
light  load.  Sending  two  men  to  his  camp 
for  the  tent  and  oil-stove,  we  again  moved 
back  to  our  camp  at  the  cliff. 

The  snow  in  these  two  storms  had  fallen 
and  drifted  to  the  depth  of  about  nine  feet, 
and  was  so  soft  that  one  sunk  almost  to 
the  waist  in  attempting  to  push  through 
it,  and  we  had  no  proper  snow-shoes.  The 
winter  had  actually  set  in,  and  we  realized 
we  were  too  late  to  reach  our  instruments 
and  again  attempt  the  peak.  It  was  se- 
verely disappointing,  after  days  of  travel 
over  rough  moraines  and  icy  glaciers,  cross- 
ing by  narrow  bridges,  hauling  ourselves 

307 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


up  steep  cliffs  and  precipices,  swimming 
streams,  and  living  for  weeks  with  an  oil- 
stove  for  fuel,  sleeping  four  abreast  in  a 
7x7  tent  on  the  snow;  in  fact,  six  weeks 
of  utter  discomfort  for  body  and  soul,  and 
then  to  be  beaten  by  so  little !  If  the  storm 
had  only  held  off  for  twenty-four  hours 
more,  the  scalp  of  Elias  would  have  been 
in  our  belt,  and  we  could  have  finished 
the  trip  with  great  rejoicing.  However, 
our  attempt  was  bold,  and  our  success  in 
finding  and  naming  new  peaks  and  gla- 
ciers, and  studying  their  movements,  and, 
indeed,  making  a  general  topographical 
reconnoissance  of  this  unknown  region, 
recompensed  us  in  part  for  the  failure  in 
reaching  the  summit  of  Elias.  So  turning 
our  backs  on  the  mountain,  we  returned 
to  our  base  camp  at  Blossom  Island  during 
another  storm,  and  tried  to  forget  our  dis- 
appointment in  eating  bear-meat  and  wild 
huckleberries. 

The  rest  of  the  season  I  was  engaged  in 
extending  the  topographical  work  ;  and 
in  one  of  these  trips  I  went  down  to  the 
Indian  village  and  met  the  Corwin,  with 
my  friend  Captain  C.  L.  Hooper  in  com- 
mand. Learning  of  our  trips  up  the  bay, 
he  set  sail,  and,  landing  at  the  entrance  to 

308 


Mount  St.  Elias  and  its  Glaciers 


Disenchantment  Bay,  brought  off  the  re- 
mainder of  the  party.  The  Corwin  thus 
had  the  honor  of  being  the  first  vessel  to 
steam  up  Yakutat  Bay.  We  stayed  only  a 
few  hours  at  the  village  at  Port  Mulgrave, 
and  after  a  delightful  voyage  reached  Port 
Townsend  on  Oct.  2,  our  party  disbanded, 
and  the  men  all  returned  to  their  various 
homes. 


309 


A   THOUSAND    MILES 
THROUGH    THE    ALPS 

By  Sir  IV.  Martin  Conway 


Morning- — from  a  summit. 


iHEN  I  began  climbing  moun- 
tains, almost  a  quarter  of  a 
century  ago,  mountaineering 
—  at  all  events  in  the  Alps — 
xXi  was  a  very  different  matter 
from  what  it  is  to-day.  The  age  of  Alpine 
conquest  was  even  then  approaching  its 
close;  but  present  conditions  did  not  pre- 
vail, and  the  sentiment  of  climbers  was  still 
that  of  pioneers. 

The  old-fashioned  climber,  the  mountain 
hero  of  my  boyhood,  was  a  traveller,  and 
desired  to  be  an  explorer.  When  he  went 
to  the  Alps,  he  went  to  wander  about  and  to 

313 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

rough  it.  Many  peaks  were  still  unclimbed, 
and  by  most  people  conceived  to  be  un- 
climbable.  He  probably  thought  he  could 
reduce  the  number,  and  it  was  his  chief 
ambition  to  do  so.  The  desire  to  discover 
new  routes,  which  still  lingers  among  Al- 
pine travellers,  is  a  belated  survival  from 
the  days  when  all  the  Alps  were  un- 
climbed. The  rush  of  tourists  that  came 
with  improved  means  of  communication, 
and  was  accompanied  by  a  development 
of  railways,  roads,  and  inns  throughout 
the  frequented  and  more  accessible  parts 
of  Switzerland,  could  not  be  without  effect 
upon  mountaineering.  The  change  showed 
itself  chiefly  in  this  respect,  that  the  ha- 
bitual climber,  the  man  for  whom  Alpine 
climbing  takes  the  place  of  another's  fish- 
ing or  shooting,  ceased  to  be  a  traveller, 
and  acquired  the  habit  of  settling  down 
for  the  whole  time  of  his  holiday  in  a 
comfortably  furnished  centre,  whence  he 
makes  a  series  of  ascents  of  the  high 
mountains  within  its  reach. 

Previously  mountaineering  was  one  of 
the  best  forms  of  training  for  a  traveller,  and 
indeed  supplied  for  busy  persons,  whose  an- 
nual holiday  must  be  short,  experience  of 
all  the  charms,  excitements,  and  delights 
which  reward  the  explorer  of  distant  and 

3H 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

unknown  regions  of  the  earth.  The  object 
of  the  journey  now  to  be  described  was  to 
discover  whether  the  time  had  not  come 
when  a  return  might  be  made,  on  a  novel 
footing,  to  the  habits  of  Alpine  pioneers. 
Of  course  the  mystery  is  gone  from  the 
Alps,  —  none  but  climbers  know  how 
completely.  Every  mountain  and  point  of 
view  of  even  third-rate  importance  has  been 
ascended,  most  by  many  routes.  Almost 
every  gap  between  two  peaks  has  been  trav- 
ersed as  a  pass.  The  publications  of  some 
dozen  mountaineering  societies  have  re- 
corded these  countless  expeditions  in  rows 
of  volumes  of  appalling  length.  Of  late 
years  vigorous  attempts  have  been  made  to 
coordinate  this  mass  of  material  in  the 
form  of  Climbers'  Guides,  dealing  with 
particular  districts,  wherein  every  peak  and 
pass  is  dealt  with  in  strict  geographical  suc- 
cession, and  every  different  route,  and  all 
the  variations  of  each  route,  are  set  forth, 
with  references  to  the  volumes  in  which 
they  have  been  described  at  length  by  their 
discoverers.  Nearly  half  the  Alps  has  been 
treated  in  this  manner;  but  the  work  has 
taken  ten  years,  and  of  course  the  whole 
requires  periodical  revision. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  it  was  now  pos- 
sible, taking  the  whole  range  of  the  Alps, 

315 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

to  devise  a  route,  or  rather  a  combination 
of  climbs,  the  descent  from  each  ending 
at  the  starting-point  for  the  next,  such 
that  one  might  begin  at  one  extremity  of 
the  snowy  range  and  walk  up  and  down 
through  its  midst  to  the  other  extremity 
over  a  continuous  series  of  peaks  and  passes. 
The  Alps,  of  course,  though  spoken  of  as 
a  range,  are  not  a  single  line  of  peaks,  but 
a  series  of  locally  parallel  ridges  covering  a 
region.  There  is  no  continuous  Alpine 
ridge  at  all  that  stretches  from  one  end 
of  the  region  to  the  other.  It  would  be 
possible  to  devise  an  almost  infinite  variety 
of  combinations  of  peaks  and  passes  that 
would  fulfil  the  conditions  of  my  plan. 
Some  of  these  would  take  years  to  carry 
out,  for  they  would  lead  over  peaks  that 
can  only  be  ascended  under  exceptionally 
good  conditions  of  weather.  The  route 
selected  had  to  be  capable  of  execution 
within  three  months  of  average  weather  — 
a  mixture  of  good  and  bad,  with  the  bad 
predominating.  It  was  also  essential  that 
it  should  lead  continuously  through  snowy 
regions,  and  that  it  should  traverse  as  many 
of  the  more  interesting  and  well-known 
groups  as  possible. 

By  beginning  with  the  smaller  ranges 
at  the  southern  extremity  of  the  Alpine 

316 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 


mg^ 


region  we  were  able 
to  start  early  in  the 
summer  season  with 
the  maximum  of 
time  before  us.  The 
Colle  di  Tenda,  over 
which  goes  the  road 
from  Turin  to  Ven- 
timiglia,  is  regarded 
as  the  southern  limit 
of  the  Alps,  and  the 
boundary  between 
them  and  the  Apennines.  Thither,  there- 
fore, we  transferred  ourselves  on  June  I. 
The  first  division  of  the  journey  was  thence 
to  Mont  Blanc,  which,  of  course,  had  to  be 
traversed ;  this  line  of  route  lay  partly  in 
France,  but  chiefly  in  Italy,  the  Dauphiny 
mountains  being  of  necessity  omitted  as 
lying  apart  in  an  isolated  group.  At  Mont 
Blanc  we  had  to  decide  between  two  main 
possible  ways.  We  might  go  along  the 
southern  Pennine,  Lepontine,  and  other 
ranges,  or  by  the  northern  Oberland  ridge 
and  its  eastward  continuations.  .  I  chose 
the  northern  route  as  being  the  shorter 
and,  to  me,  more  novel.  Arriving  thus 
at  the  eastern  extremity  of  Switzerland, 
the  general  line  to  be  followed  across  the 
Tyrol  was  obvious,  the  final  goal  being  the 


317 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 


Ankogel,  the  last  snowy  peak  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Vienna,  about  a  hundred  and  eighty 
miles  from  that  city. 

The  party  assembled  at  the  Colle  di 
Tenda  for  this  expedition  was  rather  a 
large  one  as  Alpine  parties  go.  I  was  for- 
tunate to  secure  as  companion  my  friend 
Mr.  E.  A.  Fitzgerald,  an  experienced 
climber,  who  has  since  won  distinction  as 
an  explorer  in  the  snow-mountains  of  New 
Zealand.  He  brought  with  him  two 
well-known  guides,  J.  B.  Aymonod  and 
Louis  Carrel,  both  of  Valtournanche,  a 
village  near  the  south  foot  of  the  Matter- 
horn.  Carrel  is  famous  as  one  of  the 
guides  who  accompanied  Mr.  Whymper 
to  the  Andes.  For  the  first  part  of  the 
journey  I  engaged  my  old  Himalayan  com- 
panion, the  guide  Mattias  Zurbriggen,  of 
Macugraga ;  and  I  was  further  accompanied 
by  two  of  the  Gurkhas  (natives  of  Nepal) 
who  were  with  me  in  the  Himalayas,  to 
wit,  Lance  Naick  Amar  Sing  Thapa  and 
Lance  Naick  Karbir  Bura  Thoki,  both  of 
the  first  battalion  of  the  Fifth  Gurkha  Ri- 
fles. The  Gurkhas  are  admirable  scram- 
blers and  good  weight-carriers,  but  they 
were  not  experienced  in  the  craft  of  climb- 
ing snow-mountains.  They  had  begun  to 
learn  the  use  of  the  axe  and  rope  in  India; 

318 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 


Halt  at  the  Top  of  a  slope  —  Gurkhas  and  Swiss  Guide. 


but  it  was  felt  that  if  they  could  spend  a 
further  period  of  three  months,  working 
under  first-rate  guides,  their  mountaineer- 
ing education  would  be  advanced,  and  they 
would  be  better  able  on  their  return  to 
India  to  assist  in  Himalayan  exploration, 
up  till  now  so  neglected.  It  was  in  view 
of  giving  them   experience   of  snow  and 

319 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

glacier  work  that  our  route  was  devised  to 
keep  as  far  as  possible  to  snow,  and  to 
avoid  rather  than  seek  rock-scrambling,  in 
which  they  were  already  proficient. 

Fortunate  people  who  live  on  islands,  or 
without  bellicose  neighbors,  have  no  idea 
of  the  excitements  of  frontier  travel  in 
central  Europe.  As  long  as  you  merely 
want  to  cross  from  one  country  into  an- 
other, there  is  only  the  custom-house  nui- 
sance to  be  fought  through ;  but  try  to 
settle  down  near  a  frontier  and  enjoy  your- 
self in  a  normal  fashion,  walking  to  pretty 
points  of  view,  and  staring  about  as  you 
please,  all  sorts  of  annoyances  and  impedi- 
ments start  in  your  way ;  while  if  you  wish 
to  travel  along  the  frontier,  these  become 
indefinitely  multiplied.  It  is  useless  to 
dodge  gendarmes  and  folks  of  that  kidney 
on  the  Franco-Italian  frontier.  They  are 
too  numerous,  active,  and  suspicious.  We 
knew  this,  and  made  what  we  supposed 
were  sufficient  arrangements  beforehand. 
Ministers  and  august  personages  were  ap- 
proached by  one  or  another  on  our  behalf, 
friendly  promises  were  given,  and  the  way 
seemed  smooth  before  us  ;  but  we  started 
along  it  too  soon,  not  bearing  in  mind  that 
governmental  machineries,  though  they 
may  ultimately  grind  exceeding  small,  do 

320 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

so  with  phenomenal  slowness.  When, 
therefore,  we  actually  came  upon  frontier 
ground,  we  were  not  expected,  and  the 
ways  were  often  closed  against  us.  It  was 
not  till  just  as  we  were  leaving  Italy  for 
the  unsuspicious  and  more  travelled  regions 
of  Savoy  and  Switzerland  that  the  spread- 
ing wave  of  orders  and  recommendations 
in  our  favor,  washing  outward  from  the 
official  centre,  broke  against  the  mountain- 
wall,  and  produced  a  sudden  profusion  of 
kindnesses  and  attentions  which,  if  they 
had  come  a  fortnight  sooner,  would  have 
made  our  journey  more  pleasant. 

As  it  was,  however,  we  were  treated  in 
the  Maritime  and  Cottian  Alps  as  probable 
spies.  The  peaks  and  passes  we  wanted  to 
climb  were  closed  against  us;  and  we  had 
continually  to  change  our  plans  in  order 
to  avoid  fortresses  and  the  like  futilities, 
sight  of  which  in  the  far  distance  without 
permission  is  a  crime.  Nor  were  these 
political  difficulties  the  only  ones  we  had 
to  contend  against  in  the  first  part  of  our 
journey.  Eager  to  be  early  on  the  ground, 
we  arrived  too  early.  None  of  the  inns 
were  open  in  the  upper  valleys,  and  the 
high  pastures  and  huts  were  all  deserted; 
so  that  we  had  to  descend  low  for  food, 
and  often  to  sleep  in  the  open  air.     More- 

321 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

over,  to  make  matters  worse,  the  season 
was  backward.  The  mass  of  winter  snow 
had  waited  till  May  to  fall,  and  in  June 
the  mountains  were  draped  with  a  vesture 
proper  to  the  month  of  March.  Ascents 
were  thereby  rendered  dangerous  from  ava- 
lanches, or  even  impossible,  which  should 
have  been  little  more  than  grass  walks. 
It  was,  therefore,  in  every  sense  a  misfor- 
tune that  our  start  was  not  delayed  at  least 
a  fortnight. 

With  every  disadvantage,  however,  we 
saw  enough  of  the  Maritime  Alps  to  gain 
a  fair  idea  of  their  scenery,  which  is  superb, 
and  differs  in  character  from  that  of  other 
Alpine  regions.  Their  greatest  charm  is 
derived  from  their  situation  between  the 
Mediterranean  on  the  one  side,  and  the 
Lombard  plain  on  the  other,  broad,  level 
expanses  toward  which  mountain  buttresses 
gracefully  descend.  Ill-luck  in  weather  de- 
prived us  of  the  choicest  views;  yet  there 
is  a  beauty  in  cloud-enframed  glimpses  per- 
haps no  less  great  than  the  clearest  prospect 
can  afford.  The  mountains  do  not  rise  to 
any  great  height;  and  though  their  summits 
and  gullies  hold  snow  all  the  year  round, 
it  is  not  in  quantity  sufficient  to  form  gla- 
ciers. But  the  valleys  are  so  deep  that  for 
a  climber  the  altitudes  to  be  ascended  are 

322 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 


Cloud  Effect  on  Glacier. 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  (he  Alps 

as  great  as  in  the  case  of  the  high  peaks  of 
the  central  Alps.  The  scrambling  is  good  ; 
for  the  range  is  chiefly  built  of  limestone, 
which  presents  difficult  problems  of  a  gym- 
nastic character.  The  valleys  possess  a  sin- 
gular charm  ;  for  they  are  richly  wooded, 
and  the  streams  that  enliven  them  are  of 
clear  water  dancing  down  in  crystal  floods. 
Moreover,  the  color  of  the  atmosphere  is 
richer  than  in  Switzerland  and  the  Tyrol, 
so  that  hollows  are  filled  with  bluer  shad- 
ows, distances  are  softer,  and  floating  clouds 
receive  an  added  tenderness. 

Rather  more  than  three  weeks  were 
spent  in  travelling  from  the  sea  to  Mont 
Blanc.  The  principal  peaks  climbed  on 
the  way  were  Monte  Viso  and  the  Aiguille 
de  la  Grande-Sassiere,  the  one  in  storm, 
the  other  on  a  perfect  day.  It  is  a  mis- 
take to  imagine  that  mountain  scenery  is 
only  beautiful  in  fine  weather.  It  is  often 
more  impressive  in  fog  or  storm  than  at 
any  other  time.  Clouds,  which  shut  out 
the  distance,  force  the  eye  to  linger  on  the 
foreground  of  ice  and  rock,  which  possess 
beauties  of  their  own.  It  is  not  for  mere 
summit  panoramas  that  lovers  of  scenery 
are  led  to  climb.  Every  stage  of  ascent 
and  descent  gives  its  own  reward.  Monte 
Viso,  when  we  climbed  it,  was  not  the 

32s 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

naked  rock-peak  known  to  summer  travel- 
lers. It  was  buried  deep  in  hard,  frozen 
snow,  which  the  violent  gale  swept  into 
the  air,  and  whirled  about  in  twisted 
wreaths.  Clouds,  too,  were  dragged  across 
it,  and,  as  it  were,  combed  through  the 
teeth  of  its  serrated  rock-ridge.  Few 
wilder  or  more  impressive  scenes  have  I 
witnessed  than  that  we  beheld  from  near 
the  top  of  the  peak  when  the  gale  was  at 
its  height.  The  air  seemed  to  be  writhing 
about  us.  We  were  all  covered  with  fro- 
zen filaments;  icicles  hung  from  our  hair. 
We  had  to  cling  to  the  rocks  or  be  blown 
away.  Such  moments  of  excitement  may 
at  the  time  be  physically  disagreeable  ;  but 
they  are  morally  stimulating  in  a  high  de- 
gree, and  linger  in  the  memory  far  more 
agreeably  than  do  afternoons  of  slothful 
dalliance  and  luxurious  repose. 

As  we  travelled  forward  from  day  to 
day  the  peaks  we  were  to  climb  first  ap- 
peared in  the  remote  distance,  then  coming 
nearer,  separated  themselves  from  their  fel- 
lows, till  at  last  each  in  its  turn  blocked 
the  way,  and  had  to  be  climbed  over. 
Mont  Blanc  was  long  a-coming.  We  saw 
it  first  from  the  Sassiere,  as  a  culminating 
dome  above  a  lower  wall  of  neighbors. 
Next   we    saw   it    while    descending    the 

326 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 


A   Storm  on  Mount   Viso  —forced  to  cling  to  the  rock  or  be  blown  away 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 


Maritime  Alps  at  Dawn. 


Ruitor  Glacier.  That  morning  the  clouds 
were  low,  and  for  hours  we  saw  nothing 
that  was  not  near  at  hand.  The  Ruitor 
snow-field  is  large  and  gently  inclined. 
We  had  to  steer  our  way  down  it  by  com- 
pass and  map.  Its  white  rippled  surface 
spread  around  us,  melting  at  the  edges  of 
vision  into  a  sparkling  mist  which  the  sun- 
light illuminated,  but  was  long  in  driving 
away.  At  last  there  came  a  movement  in 
the  fog,  a  strange  twinkling  and  flickering 
as  of  ghosts  passing  by.      Uncertain  forms 

329 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

appeared  and  vanished.  Low,  striking 
light-bands  striped  the  white  floor.  Sud- 
denly, to  our  bewildered  delight,  there 
stood,  behind  a  faint  veil  which  swiftly 
melted  away,  the  whole  Mont  Blanc  range, 
clear  from  end  to  end,  superb  in  form,  and 
glittering  in  sunshine.  Entranced,  we 
halted  to  gaze  as  the  fairy  vision  hardened 
into  reality. 

A  couple  of  days  later  we  were  on  the 
mountain  itself,  approaching  its  snowy  re- 
gion by  way  of  the  Miage  Glacier,  which 
lies  in  a  deep  and  splendid  valley.  We 
spent  the  night  in  a  hut  on  the  great  peak's 
flank,  but  started  on  again  by  one  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  so  as  to  traverse  the  steep 
snow-slopes  to  the  ridge  while  frost  held 
them  firm.  The  progress  from  night  to 
day  in  this  remote  snowy  fastness  went  for- 
ward as  we  ascended,  and  the  sun  had 
risen  when  we  stood  on  the  frontier  ridge 
which  was  to  be  followed  to  the  top.  Al- 
ready Europe  was  at  our  feet.  The  ranges 
by  which  we  had  come  stretched  south- 
ward into  blue  vagueness;  on  the  other 
side  were  the  green  hills  of  Savoy,  the 
hollow  of  Geneva's  lake,  and  I  know  not 
what  far-stretching  plains  and  undulations 
of  France.  Looking  along  the  ridge,  the 
Aiguille  de  Bionassay,  a  splendid  pyramid 

330 


-  . 


"5      g 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

of  snow,  passing  graceful,  and  edged  with 
delicately  sharpened  ice-ridges,  divided  the 
two  views  from  one  another.  We  turned 
our  backs  on  the  pyramid  and  climbed 
ahead,  following  a  crest  of  snow,  some- 
times sharp  as  an  axe-edge,  often  curled 
over  like  a  breaking  wave  on  one  side 
or  the  other.  As  snow  aretes  go,  this 
one  is  not  remarkable  for  narrowness;  but 
the  slopes  on  either  hand  are  steep,  and 
have  the  usual  appearance  of  precipitance. 
Hence  it  was  that  in  August,  1890,  Count 
Umberto  di  Villanova,  with  his  famous 
guides  Antonio  Castagneri  and  J.  J.  Ma- 
quignaz,  were  blown  to  destruction  by  a 
violent  gale.  Their  bodies  were  never 
found,  but  their  footsteps  were  traced  to 
this  point.  On  which  side  of  the  ridge 
they  fell  we  have  no  means  of  knowing. 

By  noon  we  stood  on  the  culminating 
point  of  the  Alps,  the  first  visitors  of  the 
year.  Since  my  former  visit  a  hut  had 
been  set  up  in  this  desolate  spot,  —  a  dis- 
figurement, but  a  useful  shelter,  —  beneath 
which  we  took  refuge  from  a  chilly  wind. 
Clouds  decorated  without  obliterating  the 
glorious  panorama,  beyond  question  the 
finest  in  the  Alps,  and  surpassed  only,  if  at 
all  in  Europe,  by  that  from  Caucasian  El- 
bruz.  Flocks  of  cloudlets  grazed  the  green 

333 


A    Thousand  Mis  through  the  A  l/s 


hills  at  our 
feet,  and  lines 
of  small  soft 
billows,  as  it 
were  break- 
ing on  a  wide 
and  shallow 
shore,  undu- 
lated in  the 
remote  dis- 
tance. The 
sky,  f o r  a 
quarter  of  its 
height,  had 
parted  with  its  blue  to  the  valley  deeps, 
and  was  striped  around  with  fine  horizontal 
lines,  each  edging  a  new  grade  of  tone,  like 
the  lines  in  a  solar  spectrum.  We  ran  down 
to  Chamonix  by  the  historic  route.  The 
sun  blazed  upon  us,  and  the  heat  was  in- 
tolerable; but  toward  evening  a  copper- 
colored  tower  of  cloud  arose  in  the  west, 
and  cast  a  solemn  shadow  on  the  glacier. 

334 


Along  the  Snoiv  Arete, 


A   Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

It  was  night  when  we  reached  the  valley, 
and  we  entered  Chamonix  in  the  dark. 

If  we  had  now  taken  the  southern  route, 
we  should  have  had  a  fine  series  of  glacier 
passes  to  cross  from  Chamonix  to  Zermatt ; 
but  all  of  them  were  well  known  to  me, 
and  I  preferred  a  new  region.  So  we  went 
through  the  limestone  Savoy  hills,  over 
small  peaks  and  passes,  easy  enough  to  trav- 
erse, but  delightful  for  the  variety  of  sce- 
nery and  its  swift  changes  of  character. 
It  was  not  till  we  had  crossed  the  Rhone 
valley  and  climbed  the  Diablerets  that  large 
glaciers  came  much  in  our  way.  Each  day 
we  climbed  a  peak,  and  descended  to  some 
cowherd's  hut  to  sleep.  They  were  all 
dirty,  so  that  we  often  chose  rather  to  lie 
on  the  grass  in  the  open  air  than  to  shelter 
within  them.  Valseret  was  the  worst.  We 
reached  it  as  the  cows  came  jangling  home 
to  be  milked.  The  peasants  gathered  round 
a  fire  near  the  door  to  eat  their  evening  meal 
of  hard  bread  and  maigre  cheese,  which 
they  toasted  on  the  embers.  Swarms  of  flies 
came  with  them.  The  men  crammed  their 
mouths  full  of  food,  and  then  shouted  at 
the  cows,  who  were  butting  one  another 
all  around.  The  wind  whisked  ashes  into 
their  eyes,  but  nothing  disturbed  their  stolid 
equanimity.    The  meal  ended,  each  hid  his 

335 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

loaf  and  cheese  in  a  hole  in  the  wall.  The 
cows  meanwhile  looked  in  and  snorted, 
eager  to  be  milked.  No  one  spoke,  and 
only  the  flies  were  gay.  The  surroundings 
of  the  hut  were  incredibly  foul,  and  we  had 
to  go  some  distance  to  find  a  clean  spot  to 
sleep  on. 

The  finest  scenery  in  this  part  of  our 
journey,  at  the  west  end  of  the  famous 
Bernese  Oberland,  was  that  of  the  glacier 
of  the  great  Dead  Plain.  We  did  not  see 
it  until  we  were  on  its  edge,  and  the  white 
expanse  spread  before  us.  It  fills  a  kind 
of  elliptical  hollow,  some  two  miles  long 
by  a  mile  wide.  Once  on  its  smooth,  large 
surface,  the  external  world  is  shut  out  by  a 
ring  of  low  mountain  wall.  Not  a  trace 
of  human  activity  can  be  seen  in  any  di- 
rection. The  largeness,  simplicity,  and 
seclusion  of  this  strange  snow-field  made 
it  unique.  We  traversed  its  longest  diam- 
eter. The  snow,  fortunately,  remained  hard 
throughout  the  hour  of  our  passage,  thanks 
to  a  cool  breeze  and  a  veiled  sun.  The  sur- 
face was  beautifully  rippled  and  perfectly 
clean. 

A  few  days  farther  on  we  came  to  the 
chief  mass  of  Oberland  mountains,  the 
Jungfrau  and  her  fellows.  Right  through 
the  heart  of   the   range   goes   a   splendid 

336 


A   Thousand  Miles  ihroitgh  tltt  Alps 


A  Snow  Cornice. 


snow-valley,  cut  across  at  three  places  by 
low  passes,  but  orographically  continu- 
ous. Two  days'  marching  took  us  from 
end  to  end  of  this  longest  snow  traverse 
in  the  Alps.  We  halted  for  two  nights  in 
the  midst  of  it  at  the  Concordia  hut  by 
the  snow-field  of  the  Great  Aletsch  gla- 
cier, and  spent  the  intervening  day  in 
ascending  the  Jungfrau.  Few  European 
mountains  are    easier   or   more   beautiful, 

337 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

for  the  starting-point  is  remote  from  the 
habitations  of  man,  and  all  the  climb  is 
done  in  one  of  Nature's  purest  and  most 
enclosed  solitudes.  Rocks  are  not  once 
touched  between  the  Concordia  hut  and 
the  summit ;  the  whole  route  lies  over 
spotless  snow  and  ice,  up  gently  inclined 
plains  of  it,  and  then  steeper  slopes  to 
a  ridge  of  ice,  and  so  to  the  top.  The 
views  are  throughout  of  snowy  regions, 
and  not  till  the  summit  is  gained  does 
the  sight  plunge  down  to  fertile  valleys, 
blue  lakes,  and  a  far-off  land  of  woods 
and  fields.  As  we  stood  on  the  highest 
point,  and  looked  over  the  great  snow- 
basin  to  the  towering  Finsteraarhorn,  with 
a  bright  roof  of  cirrus  cloud  spread  above 
it  on  the  blue  sky,  I  thought  I  had  sel- 
dom beheld  a  more  impressive  spectacle. 

Thus  far  the  weather,  though  by  no 
means  perfect,  and  often  bad,  had  not  been 
systematically  evil ;  but  from  this  time  for- 
ward our  journey  was  made  in  a  succession 
of  storms,  separated  from  one  another  by 
thinnest  fine-weather  partitions.  On  one 
perfect  day  we  climbed  the  Galenstock,  a 
mountain  known  to  all  who  have  crossed 
the  Furka.  We  left  the  Grimsel  inn  be- 
fore midnight,  and  came  in  a  dark  hour 
to  the  pallid  snow-field  of  the  Rhone  Gla- 

338 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

cier.  Crossing  it,  as  in  a  featureless  dream, 
we  mounted  a  monotonous  snowy  valley  to 
the  mountain's  ridge,  where  such  a  splen- 
dor of  dawn  burst  upon  us  from  the  glow- 
ing east  that  it  obliterates  all  other  mem- 
ories, and  remains  the  feature  of  the  day. 
We  looked  abroad  over  low  Italian  and 
Ticino  hills,  bathed  in  soft  air  and  trans- 
parent mist,  and  playing  at  hide-and-seek 
with  floating  lines  and  balls  of  changeful 
cloud ;  then  on  to  the  Engadine  peaks,  and 
farther  yet  to  remote  ranges  under  a  newly 
risen  sun,  forming  backgrounds  to  the 
various-tinted  atmosphere,  through  which 
each,  remoter  than  the  ridge  before,  seemed 
more  soft  and  ethereal  than  its  neighbor, 
till  the  last  led  fitly  to  the  sky. 

Looking  back,  however,  upon  this  part 
of  our  journey  —  the  traverse,  that  is  to 
say,  from  the  Oberland  into  the  Tyrol  — 
it  stands  out  as  a  period  of  storm.  We 
went  forward  without  regard  to  weather, 
and  took  what  came.  Sometimes  we 
started  in  fog,  and  steered  by  compass  and 
map  to  the  glacier,  then  felt  our  way  up 
it  to  some  narrow  pass  by  which  access 
was  obtained  to  the  next  valley.  These 
were  exciting  times.  One  day,  for  in- 
stance, we  had  to  cross  the  Silvretta  group 
of  mountains  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 

339 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

Lower  Engadine.  We  had  been  unable 
to  obtain  the  least  glimpse  of  them,  so 
dense  were  the  clouds  that  enveloped 
them.  Yet  we  started  at  our  usual  hour 
in  the  morning,  trusting 
to  luck  and  an  indifferent 
map  as  guide.  For  hours 
the  way  was  up  a  swampy 
valley  that  bent  and 
branched  with  fitful  va- 
grance.  Avoiding  wrong 
turns,  we  came  to  a  gla- 
cier's foot  which  loomed 
forth  out  of  the  fog  and 
rain.  We  advanced  up  it 
not  without  satisfaction, 
for  physical  features  on  a 
glacier  are  more  orderly  in 
sequence  than  they  are  in 
a  mere  upland  valley;  and 
the  character  of  the  snow 
under  foot  reveals  the  level 
attained,  an  element  by 
which  to  reckon  the  way. 

tee.  J 

The  rain  presently  gave 
place  to  falling  snow,  which  the  wind 
drove  against  us.  We  could  not  see  twenty 
yards  in  any  direction.  At  the  foot  of 
the  glacier  we  took  the  bearing  of  the 
pass;   but   the   map   we  had  was  twenty 

340 


Getting  down  a  rock  crevice. 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

years  old,  and  in  the  interval  the  glacier 
had  greatly  changed,  so  that  the  bearing 
was  not  correct.  Roping  in  a  long  line 
for  convenience  of  guiding,  the  compass- 
bearer  being  last,  we  set  forward  at  a  late 
hour  of  the  afternoon  into  the  wild  upper 
regions.  The  new  snow  under  foot  was 
soft  and  deep.  For  hours  we  waded,  rather 
than  walked  upward.  Only  the  dip  of  the 
slope  we  were  on,  and  the  barometric  alti- 
tude, gave  indication  of  the  place  we  had 
reached.  Higher  and  higher  we  went, 
hoping  to  run  into  the  gap  ;  but  only  the 
slope  rose  featureless  before  us,  to  vanish 
in  fog  a  few  yards  away.  Daylight  waned, 
and  still  the  advance  continued.  The  ba- 
rometer showed  that  we  were  far  above 
the  level  of  the  pass.  We  had  missed  it, 
therefore,  and  were  climbing  a  peak  beside 
it ;  but  was  the  pass  on  our  left  hand  or  on 
our  right  ?  Probably  the  right,  we  said ; 
so  we  struck  off  that  way,  and  traversed 
horizontally,  then  up  again,  and  then  an- 
other traverse.  The  gale  raged  wildly,  the 
snow  whirled  in  our  faces,  and  buffeted  us 
into  a  stupid  condition.  At  last  a  tooth  of 
rock  came  in  view  close  at  hand,  and  we 
knew  we  must  be  near  the  ridge.  A  few 
minutes  later  we  were  going  down  the 
other  side  like  wild  creatures,  racing  for 

341 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 


In  Wind  and  Snow. 


the  day.  Half  an  hour  brought  us  sud- 
denly into  clear  air,  and  showed  us  a  green 
valley  leading  down,  and  mountains  at  the 
end  of  it,  on  which  the  evening  light  was 
beginning  to  fade.  We  ran  down  the  val- 
ley to  the  long  slope  at  its  mouth,  and  in 
the  dark  night  we  plunged  and  stumbled 
through  a  pathless  wood  to  the  Engadine 
highroad  at  its  foot. 

This  was  but  one  of  many  similar  ex- 
periences.     Sometimes    the    evening    was 

342 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

fine,  sometimes  the  morning,  but  the  rest 
of  the  day  was  usually  given  over  to  storm. 
We  became  callous  as  time  went  on,  and 
the  habit  of  bad-weather  travelling  grew 
in  us.  There  are  certainly  excitements 
and  beautiful  effects  as  well  which  are 
only  to  be  had  in  mountains  in  bad 
weather,  and  these  we  enjoyed  to  the  full. 
Wild  places,  such  as  the  lofty  secluded 
rock-bound  lake  of  Mutt  in  Canton  Gla- 
rus,  never  look  so  fine  as  when  clouds  are 
rolling  over  them. 

On  the  way  to  the  Mutt  Lake  we  had  a 
strange  adventure,  of  which  I  was  fortu- 
nate enough  to  secure  a  photograph.  We 
were  approaching  the  highest  sheep  pas- 
ture as  the  day  waned.  The  sheep,  seven- 
teen hundred  in  number,  saw  us  from  the 
surrounding  slopes,  and,  urged  by  a  long- 
ing for  salt,  rushed  down  upon  us  from  all 
sides,  with  one  united  "  Baa,"  in  a  wild 
converging  avalanche.  We  beat  off  the 
leaders,  but  they  could  not  retreat,  for  those 
behind  pressed  them  forward.  Finding 
that  Carrel  was  the  saltest  morsel,  the  whole 
flock  surged  upon  him.  They  lifted  him 
off  his  feet,  carried  him  forward,  cast  him 
to  the  ground,  and  poured  over  him.  For- 
tunately the  ground  was  flat.  When  the 
shepherd    saw    what    had    happened    he 

343 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  tJte  Alps 

whistled  shrilly  thrice,  whereupon  the 
sheep  dispersed  in  terror,  fleeing  up  the 
mountain-side  in  all  directions,  till  no  two 
remained  together. 

At  Nauders  we  entered  the  Tyrol,  that 
happy  hunting-ground  of  the  German  and 
Austrian  Alpine  Club,  a  body  whose  pop- 
ularity and  power  may  be  gauged  by  the 
fact  that  it  possesses  over  thirty  thousand 
members,  and  its  activity  by  the  hundred 
and  odd  climbers'  huts  it  has  built,  the 
footpaths  it  has  made,  the  inns  it  has  sub- 
sidized, the  thousands  of  spots  of  paint  it 
has  splashed  upon  rocks,  and  finger-posts 
it  has  set  up  by  waysides  to  indicate  the 
wanderers'  route.  The  contrast  between 
Switzerland  and  the  Tyrol,  from  a  travel- 
ler's point  of  view,  consists  herein,  that 
whereas  travel  in  Switzerland  is  exploited 
by  hotel-keepers  and  organized  in  their 
interests,  the  Tyrol  is,  through  the  agency 
of  the  powerful  German  and  Austrian 
Alpine  Club,  organized  by  travellers  them- 
selves in  their  own  interests.  In  Switzer- 
land traps  are  laid  for  the  tourist's  francs; 
in  the  Tyrol  every  effort  is  made  to  spare 
his  pocket.  The  Tyrol  is  thus  the  para- 
dise of  poor  holiday-makers,  who  wander 
impartially  over  the  whole  country,  nine 
out  of  ten    of  them   carrying  their  own 

344 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  tile  Alp. 


Getting  Down  a  Glacier. 

packs,  and  enjoying  themselves  in  a  rea- 
sonable and  decent  fashion. 

Every  one  who  has  climbed  a  Swiss 
mountain  knows  what  a  cabane  is  like.  It 
is  usually  a  rough  stone  hut,  perhaps  di- 
vided by  wooden  partitions  into  two  or 
three  chambers.  In  a  corner  of  one  is  a 
small  stove.      On  a  shelf  are  a  few  pots, 

345 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

plates,  cups,  and  a  crooked  set  of  odd 
knives,  forks,  and  spoons.  In  the  other 
room  are  beds  of  hay  ranged  along  the 
floor,  and  sometimes  also  on  shelves.  The 
stove  smokes.  The  door  has  to  be  left 
open  or  the  fire  will  not  draw.  Draughts 
find  their  way  in  through  numerous  chinks. 
Early  in  the  season  the  floor  is  probably 
covered  with  ice.  Ancient  and  fusty  rugs 
form  the  sole  bed-covering.  The  newer 
huts,  built  by  the  Italian  Alpine  Club,  are 
an  improvement  on  these  horrid  Swiss 
shelters.  They  are  framed  of  well-fitted 
wood  ;  and  all  their  appointments  are  bet- 
ter, but  they  consist  of  the  same  elements. 
In  the  case  of  Mont  Blanc  alone,  on  the 
rocks  called  the  Grands-Mulets,  there  is  a 
hut  where  a  woman  resides  to  act  as  at- 
tendant and  cook.  Even  this  cabane  is  a 
wretched  hole,  dirty,  draughty,  and  un- 
comfortable in  more  ways  than  can  be 
briefly  catalogued.  The  climber  on  this 
route  up  Mont  Blanc  can,  indeed,  sleep  in 
a  bed,  procure  a  hot  meal,  and  purchase 
provisions ;  but  his  bill  for  indifferent  ac- 
commodation and  food  will  come  to  about 
a  hundred  francs,  the  bulk  of  which  goes, 
not  to  the  innkeeper,  but,  in  the  form 
of  rent,  to  the  Commune  of  Chamonix. 
Compare  the  Grands-Mulets  with  such  a 

346 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

Tyrolese  hut  as  the  Warnsdorfer.  The 
comparison  is  fair ;  for  the  height  of  both 
is  about  the  same,  as  is  also  their  distance 
from  the  nearest  village.  This  hut  is  a 
wooden  building  of  two  stories  on  a  mas- 
sive base,  to  which  it  is  bound  with  steel 
cables.  On  the  ground  floor  are  a  kitchen 
and  guides'  room,  a  dining-room,  and  some 
bedrooms.  Up-stairs  are  more  bedrooms, 
and  a  hayloft  for  the  guides.  A  clean  little 
woman  lives  in  the  place  to  do  the  cooking 
and  service,  and  extend  a  warm  welcome 
to  the  traveller,  who  can,  at  any  hour, 
procure  from  her  a  hot  meal  of  fresh 
meat  well  prepared.  He  can  buy  wine  or 
liquors.  He  can  write  a  letter  and  post  it. 
He  can  amuse  himself  in  the  skittle  alley 
outside  the  door,  or  play  at  chess,  cards, 
or  other  games  within.  The  bedrooms 
are  clean  and  well  furnished.  They  are 
provided  with  fireplaces.  In  the  dining- 
room,  which  is  warmed,  are  chairs  and 
tables,  with  tablecloths,  books,  a  clock,  a 
barometer,  a  guitar,  pen  and  ink,  pictures, 
maps,  and  various  other  conveniences,  be- 
sides a  cupboard  containing  an  elaborate 
medical  and  surgical  apparatus.  A  mem- 
ber of  any  Alpine  Club  whatever  pays  two- 
pence for  the  use  of  the  hut  by  day,  and 
about  a  shilling  for  his  bed  at  night.    Pro- 

349 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

visions  are  correspondingly  cheap.  Guides 
do  not  pay  for  lodgings,  and  are  supplied 
with  food  at  an  economical  rate. 

Huts  of  the  first  order,  like  this  one,  are 
becoming  numerous.  Each  is  the  prop- 
erty of  one  of  the  local  sections  of  the  Ger- 
man Club,  and  generally  bears  its  name, — 
the  Magdeburg  Hut,  the  Brunswick  Hut, 
the  Dresden  Hut,  and  so  on.  Sections  try 
to  outdo  one  another  in  the  excellence  of 
the  accommodation  they  provide,  and  every 
year  sees  some  improvement.  One  day, 
when  we  were  crossing  through  the  midst 
of  the  Stubai  Mountains  in  a  dense  fog  (as 
usual),  guiding  ourselves  merely  by  the 
compass,  there  suddenly  came  a  cave  in  the 
clouds,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  appeared  a 
large  stone  house  in  course  of  erection, 
planted  on  the  top  of  a  rocky  eminence 
rising  out  of  the  snow-field.  It  is  the  last 
new  thing  in  huts,  and  when  finished  will 
be  really  a  hotel,  capable  of  accommodat- 
ing at  least  fifty  guests.  Such  elaborate 
cabanes  are  not  yet  numerous,  but  in  the 
next  few  years  they  will  spread  over  the 
whole  snowy  area  of  the  Tyrol.  After 
them  come  huts  of  the  second  order,  in 
which  no  attendant  resides,  but  where  sup- 
plies can  be  obtained.  Each  of  these  huts 
contains  its  store  of  firewood,  frequently 

350 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 


renewed,  and  a  cupboard  full  of  tinned 
meats,  tea,  sugar,  compressed  soups,  wine, 
spirits,  and  even  champagne.  The  prices 
of  these  things  are  posted  up  on  the  wall. 
There  are  mattresses  and  bedding.  Often 
there  are  books,  maps,  and  games.      The 


Street  of  a  Mountain  Village. 


traveller  supplies  himself  with  what  he 
pleases,  makes  out  his  own  bill,  writes  it 
in  a  book,  and  deposits  the  money  in  a 
box,  which  is  as  often  as  not  unlocked. 
Yet  a  third  order  of  huts  is  to  be  found. 
They  for  the  most  part  occupy  the  most 

351 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

elevated  situations,  close  to  the  summits  of 
peaks,  or  on  the  saddles  of  passes,  and  are 
intended  merely  as  refuges  from  storms. 
They  resemble  ordinary  Swiss  huts,  to  the 
average  of  which  they  are  usually  superior  ; 
like  them  they  contain  no  supplies.  The 
present  tendency  is  to  rebuild  these  on  a 
larger  scale,  and  provide  them  with  stores. 
The  Tyrol  is  as  much  ahead  of  Switzer- 
land in  climber's  food  as  it  is  in  mountain 
huts.  Who  does  not  know  the  stringy 
meat  and  hard  cheese  that  form  the  staple 
contents  of  a  Swiss  mountaineer's  wallet? 
If  he  is  a  careful  and  foreseeing  person, 
perhaps  he  provides  himself  with  a  tin  or 
two  of  American  beef  or  fruit.  But  the 
average  Tyrolese  climber  would  regard  his 
best  hillside  menu  with  scorn.  In  the  Ty- 
rol it  is  seldom  necessary  to  carry  any  pro- 
visions except  bread.  There  are  two  or 
three  huts  on  most  mountains,  and  you  call 
at  them  for  your  meals.  In  many,  and 
a  year  or  two  hence  probably  in  all,  you 
will  find  baskets  stocked  according  to  what 
they  call  the  "  Pottsche  Provian  "  system. 
From  these  you  can  supply  yourself  with 
a  meal  in  several  courses,  and  you  have 
your  choice  of  two  or  three  wines.  The 
various  tins  contain  elaborate  and  excel- 
lent messes  of  food,   some  to  be  heated 

352 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

before  served.  It  would  be  hard  to  cite 
a  more  elaborate  and  successful  application 
of  the  cooperative  principle  to  the  supply 
of  commodities.  The  German  and  Aus- 
trian Alpine  Club  is  in  reality  a  coopera- 
tive association  of  over  thirty  thousand 
members,  who  kindly  permit  the  members 
of  other  Alpine  clubs  to  participate  in 
their  advantages. 

When  it  is  remembered  that  the  guide- 
system  of  the  Tyrol  is  under  the  govern- 
ance of  this  club,  that  it  makes  paths, 
receives  privileges  from  the  railways,  pub- 
lishes and  supplies  gratis  to  its  members 
useful  annuals,  maps  superior  to  those 
provided  by  the  government  surveys,  and 
handbooks  of  different  sorts,  the  value  and 
extent  of  its  activity  may  be  conceived. 
The  whole  country  is  in  consequence  wan- 
dered over,  not  by  herds  of  tourists  follow- 
ing personal  conductors,  but  by  an  immense 
number  of  individuals  going  alone  or  in 
parties  of  two  or  three,  taking  a  guide  now 
and  again  from  one  hut  to  another,  but  for 
the  most  part  carrying  their  own  baggage 
and  rinding  their  own  way.  There  are  no 
great  centres  where  people  flock  together 
and  make  one  another  miserable.  Trav- 
ellers keep  moving  about,  and  strew  them- 
selves fairly  evenly  over  the  mountain  area, 

353 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

Each  hut  and  village  inn  forms  a  small 
focus  where  chance  assemblages  of  wan- 
derers meet  for  the  night,  to  sunder  again 
next  day.  Community  of  momentary  in- 
terests unites  them  into  a  society  for  the 
few  hours  of  their  common  life.  The 
wandering  spirit  pervades  them  and  the 
whole  country  during  the  summer  season. 
Twenty  years  ago  this  state  of  things  did 
not  exist.  I  remember  the  Stubai  and 
Zillerthal  Mountains  when  there  was  not 
a  hut  among  them,  not  a  guide  nor  an  ice- 
axe  in  their  villages.  During  the  three 
months  I  spent  in  the  district,  scarcely  a 
traveller  came  by.  The  change,  which  is 
due  to  German  enterprise,  is  doubtless  re- 
acting upon  the  youth  of  Germany.  The 
spirit  cultivated  by  the  mediaeval  Wander- 
schaft,  which  sent  every  young  craftsman 
away  from  his  home  for  three  years,  now 
grows  out  of  the  annual  summer  tramp. 
Youthful  students  from  the  German  uni- 
versities are  infected  by  it.  They  range 
like  mediaeval  roving  scholars  in  their  hun- 
dreds over  the  land,  and  penetrate  the 
mountain  regions.  All  the  huts  and  most 
of  the  inns  open  their  arms  to  receive  them 
at  reduced  rates,  so  that  a  lad  with  a  few 
florins  in  his  pocket  can  wander  unre- 
strained from  place  to  place. 

354 


A   Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 


Hannove^s  Hut  at  AnkogeL 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

The  picture  which  I  have  thus  endeav- 
ored to  draw  will  present  little  attraction, 
no  doubt,  to  most  of  my  readers.  Com- 
fortable hotels,  in  the  usual  European  sense, 
do  not  await  them  here.  There  are  few 
carriage-roads  in  the  best  parts  of  the  coun- 
try. The  place  is  not  arranged  for  their 
convenience.  It  is  designed  for  the  fairly 
robust  wanderer,  who  goes  his  way  with- 
out a  plan,  and  desires  only  to  find  at  suit- 
able times  a  roof  over  his  head,  sound  food 
to  eat,  and  splendid  scenery  to  delight  the 
eye  and  develop  the  imagination.  Such  a 
one,  especially  if  he  possesses  some  moun- 
taineering experience  and  capacity,  may 
traverse  the  mountain  region,  in  company 
with  a  like-minded  friend  or  two,  from 
north  to  south,  and  from  east  to  west,  as- 
cending snowy  peaks  and  crossing  glacier 
passes,  without  requiring  the  assistance  of 
either  guide  or  porter.  In  every  group 
of  mountains  he  will  find  huts  placed  in 
the  best  positions  for  scenery,  not  in  the 
likeliest  places  for  entrapping  guests.  Ev- 
erywhere he  will  meet  a  free  and  intel- 
ligent, if  sometimes  a  rather  rough  and 
boisterous  company.  He  will  seldom  find 
himself  either  solitary  or  overcrowded.  He 
will  suffer  more  from  well-intended  kind- 
ness than  from  rudeness  or  neglect.      He 

357 


A    Thousand  Miles  through  the  Alps 

will  never  be  swindled.  In  fine,  no  part 
of  the  Alps  now  forms  a  better  training- 
ground  for  the  youthful  would-be  moun- 
taineer, none  a  less  vulgarized  holiday 
resort  for  the  man  of  moderate  physical 
capabilities,  simple  tastes,  or  restricted 
means,  than  the  region  comprised  in  the 
Austrian  and  Bavarian  Tyrol. 


Q 


358 


14  DAY  USE 

I  RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

RENEWALS  ONLY— TEL.  NO.  642-3405 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


OCT 


KC'DLD     0W2r<~    -£ftft4  0i 


AUG  2  8 1975 


RE- flit  JH28T5 


3elow. 


LD21A-60m-3,'70 
(N5382sl0)476-A-32 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


KVi  use 

11954 

-  m, 

ll'56RF 


rc 


58M1 


H  1958 


LD  21-100m-9,'47(A5702sl6)476 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


